Falling Rose Petals
by Lady Elena Dawson
Summary: An unwanted engagement. A voyage that would change everything. A father's will with a major twist. Jack Dawson and Rose DeWitt Bukater have been friends for more than ten years, despite their social differences. How would their lives be affected by what is to come?
1. Prologue

_**Falling Rose Petals**_

_**By Lady Elena Dawson**_

**Disclaimer: I do not own _Titanic _(1997).**

* * *

><p><strong>Fun Fact #1: A Movie of Epic Proportions<strong>

**Upon the release of James Cameron's **_**Titanic**_** in December of 1997, a blockbuster was born. The love story told between characters Jack and Rose went on to win **_**eleven**_** Oscars: a record only made by two others movies (**_**Ben-Hur**_** and **_**Lord of the Rings: Return of the King**_**). It remained the highest-grossing film unadjusted to inflation for twelve years before being defeated by Cameron's **_**Avatar**_** in 2009. It's the first movie to ever come out on VHS tape while it was still in theaters (spending over ten months in cinemas worldwide) and the only film to not win any Academy Awards in the acting category out of its fourteen nominations. **

**Prologue: 1901**

**Not Alone Anymore**

A monarch butterfly fluttered around a neatly-pinned mass of red curls protruding from the head of a very young, very beautiful girl. Lying in the grass, you would think she was an angel fallen from heaven instead of a human being. Her looks were practically immortal, and the girl was only nearing seven years of age.

"Mr. Butterfly, do you think that there's more in this world than society?" the little girl asked the monarch, which was flapping its wings and flying around her slumped figure (something her mother would have scolded her for if she had been there with her). It finally landed on a long piece of grass, which drooped because of the butterfly's weight. It took off again, flew around the innocent girl once more, then fluttered away into the flaming red sun. This guiltless act made the child sigh.

She slowly raised herself up and sat in the long, green field with her legs crossed, caring less about the stains on her light pink, frilly skirt. Pulling out a small handful of weed, she stared at it with her soft but intense blue-green eyes with the lengthy lashes. "Why did he have to leave? Now I'm all alone," the girl whispered, talking to herself silently. For her, loneliness—due to stubborn rebellion—was her life since birth.

That's when she heard a rustle. Her head jerked up, and her dark red curls that once fell in her face were brushed aside by the peaceful breeze. Her large, round eyes focused on the mountainous region in the background where the sun was setting, making the large mounds of dirt and grass look purplish in color, like the sky. The Pennsylvanian landscape was hilly and dashed with meadows, something she liked very much.

But if she liked Philadelphia or not didn't matter, for she saw, just in time, a flash of blue peeking out of the tall grasses near her.

This girl was an honest one. She never lied; that is, never had the need to. She was raised by her good-mannered, bossy mother, who knew when she was being dishonest. It was as though she had her own lying detector. Pushing aside that fact, this porcelain doll was honestly scared. She knew that, for her own safety, she had to say something. A warning, perhaps. Or a scream.

"I-I know you're there," she said in her shaky, defensive voice. "So there's no point in hiding."

There was another rustle in the distance and a small boy appeared. He was tall, ragged, and roughened. She saw tears in his eyes, glazed by pain. Her observant eyes scanned him up and down, her mind—intelligent and thoughtful for her age—processing what she assumed to be this boy's life.

_This poor boy, _she thought. _Practically traumatized, but much older than me. Possibly a couple years. _Taking a deep breath, she stood. His blue eyes widened.

"Who are you?" the female youth, no longer scared, but curious, asked as she took an intimidating step forward. "You look as though you've seen a ghost! Pale as a sheet."

The boy's voice shook as he spoke. He decided to be brief. "M-my name is Jack Dawson, and my parents just died."

The redhead froze and saddened. _This poor, _poor_ boy! Penniless, most likely, and now he's lost his parents! What will happen to him?_

"O-oh!" she exclaimed instead of voicing what she thought. "I'm so sorry! I had no idea! It's just–"

"It's okay," the boy named Jack said. "You don't need to feel bad for me."

"Well, of course I'm going to pity you a little. I mean…you're an orphan! Penniless with nowhere to go, I'm assuming…" Her voice faded off, and she looked down at her white patent shoes and knee-high socks, slightly embarrassed.

"Don't assume, miss. I've got a job."

The girl's blue-green eyes slowly looked up into Jack's dark blue ones. "How can you possibly have a job?"

She wasn't a normal six-year old. She didn't believe boys had cooties, and she definitely didn't tolerate all that gossipy nonsense the other first graders at her all-girls private school spread around. That she was different; that she wasn't one of them. Her mother was planning on pulling her out so she could be homeschooled, ashamed that her darling child was ostracized because she was unique, opinionated, and determined.

Jack smiled a dimpled smile, which made the girl grin shyly (she noticed how cute he looked when his lips curled up like that). But his smile was wet with tears and clearly an amused one, more like mocking her than cheering her up. "I'm nine. I'm old enough to have a job selling newspapers, aren't I?"

"Oh, yes, of course!"

"Then never assume."

She cocked an eyebrow. "How can you not assume?"

"By taking what life hands at you, that's how. When you've got nothin', you've got nothin' to lose, my pops used to say." He shoved his hands in his pockets and smirked. The girl's face was contorted into that of horror and confusion.

"So are you saying that if you get the opportunity to talk to a stranger, even if he or she was homeless and possibly dangerous—a murderer, for instance, who wants to use you for your money…you'd still tell them your name?" She was simply horrified. Wasn't that what her parents would always tell her: never talk to strangers?

Jack laughed heartily, making the girl's face flush red with humiliation. "Is that not what you were saying?" she spat haughtily.

Once Jack stopped laughing, he gave a small grin. "You know, you're the first person to ever actually get what I'm saying." He rolled his shoulders back and drew up to full height, his gaze peeking down at the shorter kid. "How old are you? Seven? Eight?"

The girl's anger was replaced with that of a naïve blush. "O-oh," she simply murmured, "I'm actually six, but I turn seven in July." He cocked his eyebrow, but she didn't seem to notice; instead, she burst out laughing as well. "How silly, to say whatever you want to say at any occasion! I can't imagine a life without rules. You must live life to the fullest." Then she howled again. "And I just told you my age without a single thought going through my head!"

"I make each day count," he replied over her laghter. He then gave out his hand. "Let's make it official. Jack Dawson.

Still giggling softly, she took his hand. "You already told me that."

"Without assuming, miss, I surely need to know your name."

The girl's smile faded and her pupils dilated; she started to panic. _Should_ she tell a complete stranger her name? Her age was enough! Shouldn't she have learned from her first time blurting out facts like that? It might be a trap! A devious scheme! A–

She was being presumptuous again, and so she stopped. Looking confidently at Jack, she told her name proudly without thinking of any consequences that might happen because of this information. "My name is Rose. Rose DeWitt Bukater." Clearing her mind of assumption even more, she continued. "I live right over there, the large white house in the distance." She pointed for effect.

Jack blinked and stared at her. He took his time to respond, rethinking his words before saying them. After a couple of minutes of contemplation, he took his eyes away from his feet and looked at Rose. She was waiting for him to reply. He sighed deeply and decided to trust her enough to retell his story.

He meant no harm, as Rose had thought. He cleared his throat and informed her of what happened, the details numbing his mind.

"I was out drawing at the lake when I came back home and saw the smoke. My whole house was in flames. It must've happened suddenly and spread like a wildfire, because no one made it out…"

Rose's eyes filled with pity at the young boy's experience. "I'm sorry," she whispered soothingly. "That must've been awful…"

At that moment, a gust of wind caught hold of what Jack was holding, something Rose hadn't noticed before. It flew out of his grasp and scattered across the field, papers falling everywhere. She gasped and began to gather them up.

Each piece of paper was a drawing, and very talented ones indeed. There was a dog lying in the grass. A woman sitting on a park bench. A little girl that looked as though she was posing for her long-awaited portrait.

Rose studied them closely, fascinated by the use of detail. "Did you draw these?" she asked when they reclaimed all the flying papers. He nodded, a small blush appearing on his face. She grinned and handed them back. "They're quite…good."

Smiling wittingly, she grabbed for his hand. "Maybe my father will let you stay!" She tugged at his reluctant hand. "Come on!" And the two headed back to Rose's house, walking off into the sunset.

This was all a memory now. All of a sudden, there was a flash, and everything—from the hilly backdrop to the house in the distance— went black.


	2. Never Going Back

**Fun Fact #2: A Titanic Family**

**In 1907, William James Pirrie, chairman of the shipbuilding business Harland and Wolff, got the investment needed from J.P. Morgan to build some of the largest, grandest ships in the world (though not necessarily the fastest, which the Cunard Line was known for). He then met with J. Bruce Ismay, owner of the White Star Line (a business which supplied ocean liners), and they chewed over the construction of three massive ships: the R.M.S. **_**Olympic**_**, **_**Titanic**_**, and **_**Britannic**_** (originally named **_**Gigantic**_**). R.M.S. stood for Royal Mail Steamer, meaning that the ships not only were passenger liners that carried giant bags of mail, but with their build they could easily be converted into warships. (The **_**Olympic**_** served in World War I.) They wanted to kick the **_**Lusitania **_**out of its spotlight. Thus, the **_**Titanic**_** was born. With its master shipbuilder Thomas Andrews, also Pirrie's nephew, it was built in Belfast, Ireland starting in 1909 and launched on May 31, 1911 to Southampton so she could be finished and stocked. After the success of the **_**Olympic, **_**the **_**Titanic **_**finished her sea trials on April 3, 1912 and was ready to be sent on her maiden voyage on April 10.**

_**Part I: The Engagement**_

**Chapter 1: 1911**

**Never Going Back**

_Ten Years Later…_

_She stared at herself through the mirror. At her gown, at her makeup, at her long curls, at her desperate, pleading eyes filling with tears. Picking up a pearl necklace, she threw it across the room and started tearing the vanity apart._

"Wake up, Rose, today's the birthday ball! We need to get you dressed and ready so you'll look your personal best today!"

My eyes shot open when I was woken from my slumber. I was glad and upset that my governess and maid, Trudy, broke the memory I was dreaming. Every year I always envisioned of that one moment in time when I met the most important person in my life, the warm, sticky sensation of the summer air reminding me of when I caught his eyes in the grass.

The thought of Jack Dawson made me smile and frown. We've been friends ever since that day ten years ago, and there were so many memories with him in it. My father let Jack work as a stableman and servant for the DeWitt Bukater household after my six-going-on-seven-year-old self told the story of his parents' tragic passing. Ever since then, we'd been close friends and shared everything together. Sadly, though, I couldn't do everything with Jack because… Well, I was a rich girl. If my people saw what I could've been doing with Jack—kicking sand playfully on the beach, whispering embarrassing secrets in the park—their mouths would've gaped open and I would've been "ashamed."

Jack had been booted out five years ago. My mother said that with me growing and becoming a woman, a man in the house close to my age was a risk she "wasn't willing to take"—a direct quote, may I add. As if Jack was drooling desperately to be with a woman; he's told me all about his past girlfriends, and each one was sweet and kind, just "not his type."

"What _is _your type, then?" I had asked him when he told me about another broken relationship.

He just put his finger to his lips, a mysterious glint in his eyes. "That's a secret."

When he was no longer in the house, I felt the loneliness from all those years ago rise back up in my heart. In fact, Ruth DeWitt Bukater admitted that day that she had been considering kicking Jack out for a while, ever since my menstrual cycle—something a lady should never speak of, mind you—began. "After all," she had declared, "it is not proper to have a man so close in age to yours living in a young lady's house!"

What I really thought that day was that she'd never liked Jack in the first place and now had finally found an excuse.

"Are you okay, Miss Rose?"

I was knocked out of my jumbled contemplation to find Trudy hovering over me like a swarm of bees, a worried expression on her face. "You look anxious," she inquired.

"I'm sorry." I smiled my best fake, plastic grin at her. "I'm fine."

As Trudy brushed through my red curls, I let my mind let go of Jack Dawson and wander to the newspaper's headlines yesterday._ Lord Hockley's Son Finds a Bride! _and _Daughter of the Late Lord Bukater Finds True Love? _In an outrage, I say it all had been a giant mess up. I was _not_ interested in Caledon Hockley, not one bit! In actuality, I didn't even know the man! But in contrast, I had met him before, the journalists always peeking around the corner the couple of times we had strolled around the city together as two polite acquaintances. Instead, the whole population of England—and probably all the way to New York—were receiving their juicy, made-up society columns.

I picked up my silver hand mirror and stared at my reflection, trying to read my emotions through my eyes. Desperation stared back at me.

Ever since Father's death, my mother had been trying to find me a suitable husband, and that's when she came upon Caledon Hockley. A man of good fortune (and not to mention ten years older than I), she sweetly smiled at Lord Nathan Hockley, who has also been trying to find a beautiful debutante for his son. It just so happened my coming-out party had been last year, and I had caught Mr. Hockley's attention. "Her beauty, Mrs. DeWitt Bukater, and her fair bloodline have not escaped my consideration," he had said, Mother bragging about it to me the rest of the night. I had only yawned, politely covering my mouth with a hand, and curled up under the covers and fallen asleep, my mother's words escaping my thoughts as I thought of the wonderful day I had with Jack.

On my sixteenth birthday, he had taken me to an art gallery full of old paintings. He had said he wished he could've gotten me something, but was still saving up for an apartment (he was sharing a place with his friend Robert at that time)_. _I had waved it off and we enjoyed the rest of the evening together, and I had even worked up the courage to hold his hand, my slightly layered, peach dress with the bloated skirt separating our bodies, so we weren't tempted to do anything more.

It was just me and him, the rich girl and the poor boy, our fingers entwined and bonded by a decade-long friendship as we stared up at Monet's _Water Lilies._

It was all such a splendid evening, and even though my feet were aching and swollen from all the dancing I had to do with the most well-known bachelors in tight, high-heeled shoes, I was beaming.

...

The first thing I wanted to do when we arrived at my "special" birthday party was leave. I was near the punch bowl, which happened to be close to a very tempting looking door, and stood there, waiting until most people congratulated me so I could easily make my escape without anyone missing me. Today I was seventeen on a strangely bright July 21, and all people of the most dignified members of society were happy; I was now eligible to marry. My mother was especially exalted.

When my father died two years ago, we moved to Southampton to try and escape our problems. Meanwhile, I had secretly supplied a ticket for Jack, who had always dreamed about going to Europe. On a more dreary note, my deceased father left us in debt.

I knew this party was to find me a suitable husband (which Mother had already found, though was still aware of suggestions) instead of celebrating my now-marriageable age. My heart pounded tremendously hard in my ears, and I silently wished it to stop. _Why should I be so nervous in the first place? I'm a woman of class and means,_ I thought. _Finding a husband is everyday work for young ladies like me._

I still tried to gulp down the lump in my throat.

_Oh, Jack, I wish you were here!_

Suddenly, I was reminded of a riddle my father used to tell me. We had a very close father-daughter bond, and I remember sitting in his office as he placed his large palm on a book of reputation, meanwhile flipping through its pages and tracing the words on the cover.

"_A book is no ordinary object. With its binding and full pages, an adventure awaits you at every turn. When you open it up, it looks like a scramble of words. But if you take the time to enjoy a book, then maybe, my rose petal–_just maybe_–you will find what treasure awaits you."_

_The sphinx on the cover caught my attention. "Like what, Papa? Cleopatra's tomb?"_

_He chuckled. "Oh no, my dear," he said, flicking through the book and showing me a date. "A time warp is what I mean."_

I was about to recall the book my father was talking about when a voice snapped at me. "Rose," I heard my mother's voice say, pulling me out of my memories and into the task at hand. I noticed I had been picking at my manicured nails, and immediately put my hands behind my back at Mother's raised eyebrow.

On her arm was a man. My eyes widened. _No way could she… _No! Was that really Caledon Hockley in front of my eyes? I tried not to wrinkle my nose in shock and disgust as he took my hand (which happened to fall from behind my back from my shock) and kissed it.

"It's a pleasure to see you again, Miss DeWitt Bukater," he said. I just nodded politely.

"Rose, this is Caledon Hockley. He's from Pennsylvania, like us. Pittsburgh, to be exact. Isn't that right, Mr. Hockley?" Mother said, smiling at him while glaring at me, a warning that I should be polite. "You've met before, I believe. He's here visiting Southampton for business."

Mr. Hockley nodded, but kept his eyes on me. I felt like throwing up my breakfast, and looked away from those dark, bottomless eyes instead.

"Oh, please, get to know each other!" Mother exclaimed. "I have to go greet more guests anyway."

That was the only time I had ever pleaded my mother to stay with me. Usually I was happy when she left (that meant I no longer had to be ladylike under her strict eye), but now I would do anything to get her not to leave me alone with this man who was rumored to be _courting_ me.

"So, Rose," Mr. Hockley began, not even asking my permission to call me by my first name, "happy birthday."

"Thank you," I said. Feeling that my mouth was dry, I said, "Mr. Hockley—"

"Please, call me Cal."

"Cal, do you mind getting me a drink? I prefer champagne." I did my best to cover the punch bowl behind me, hoping that his observation skills were not sharp.

"Of course." And then he set off, and came back with two flutes of bubbly drink. I gulped mine down, thinking of what to say and how to say it. I didn't want him to get the idea that I _wanted_ to marry him...

_The wedding is being planned right in front of your eyes. Haven't you seen it?_ I thought as I felt the burning sensation of the liquor down my throat. _This was society's plan all along: to get the two most-wanted bachelor and bachelorette married. It would be the largest wedding of the year, even the century! That's what they like to see, those little gossips. _I turned around and filled my empty class with the punch from the bowl, and gulped that down, too.

Cal looked at me as I did so. He could see my anxiety. "Uh, Rose, I've read the papers lately, and they say—"

"I know what they say," I snapped back, feeling a tension headache come on. I squeezed the bridge of my nose as I tried to stop the pain from increasing.

Cal seemed to back off a little, and he smiled slightly at me. "It's just... Rose, it's what the people want, I'm not asking you anything..."

"I hope you're not," I whispered to him. "It's improper and wrong to ask a lady's hand in marriage after only one hour!"

"Actually, I'd say that we've known each other for a few hours, if you count our walks around the city," he muttered, but he didn't continue after seeing the furious glint in my flaming eyes. He was silent as he thought of what to say to clear the heavy air. "Rose, I'm not saying any of that is right. Your mother and my father want to see if we'll make a good couple." A beautiful waltz started to play, and he gave me his hand. "Would you like to dance?"

Though I was still hostile, I agreed with hesitance, the room spinning and small hiccups escaping my rouged lips. He took my waist while I put my hand on his shoulder, and we danced, talking of small affairs and our opinions on politics, art, and literature. "I've always found Monet interesting," I told him honestly, my mind not processing the moment at all as the alcohol teased my brain. "I have a friend named Jack who is an artist... You know, this might sound presumptuous, but do you think you can give him the attention he—" I hiccupped "—deserves?"

Cal gave me a questioning look. "Rose, what are you talking about?"

I hiccupped again, and threw my head back, laughing. "He's not an acclaimed artist. He's one of those local, on-the-street ones. But we've known each other for ten years, and it would make me very happy if you gave him that opportunity."

I had no idea what I was doing at that moment. Was I giving Caledon Hockley a chance? I guess I was, for I let him dance with me for five songs before excusing myself to the ladies' room. When I got there, I looked at my red cheeks, and how I was seeing double. "I think you had too much champagne flutes, Rose," I told myself, laughing giddily at my reflection in the mirror. I stared at myself for what seemed like hours, even though it was only a few minutes, and fatigue was covering every inch of my body. I yawned, feeling the after effect of the alcohol coming. Rubbing my head, I groaned. _Why can't I just be at the beach, where it's not so stuffy and taut?_

"Rose?" I heard Cal's anxious voice outside the door.

_No wonder no one came in and found me!_ I thought angrily. No one _takes fifteen minutes in the bathroom, not even to powder their nose. T__hey're all too busy flirting and dancing with their Prince Charmings, downing glass after glass of champagne and never having to end up in my position._ Disgusted, I picked myself off the tiles I had sat on and smoothed the wrinkles on my skirt, fixing my hair.

"Cal, I think I need some fresh air," I said as I met his eyes opening the door. He nodded his head with his best understanding expression, and I excused myself from the room, crying as I thought of how much of a fool I had just made myself.


	3. A Small Case of Blindness

**Fun Fact #3: Suspicions **

**Superstition shows that there was evidence of the **_**Titanic**_**'s tragic sinking fifteen years prior to when it was launched. In 1898, American writer and supposed psychic Morgan Robertson wrote a short novel titled "Futility," or "The Wreck of the Titan." It goes on to explain how a British liner, the largest in the world, named the **_**Titan**_** hits an iceberg and sinks on its maiden voyage. Put in the fact that the **_**Titanic**_** was never christened, even the ship's cat, who left the ship before it set sail with her kittens, knew that something didn't feel right! Some of the richest people in the world, including J.P. Morgan, canceled their reservations. They knew when to listen to their gut.**

**Chapter 2**

**A Small Case of Blindness**

_Jewelry went flying, a picture of her and her fiancé went crashing to the floor, and she finally found herself struggling out of the dress that would eventually close her off from the world. She didn't want to be controlled. She finally stopped and looked up at herself._

When I think of Jack Dawson, the first thing that pops into my head is art. You probably thought I was going to say friendship, but our artistic personalities are what make us so close. If Jack wasn't an artist, I don't know where I would be.

I grew up in my father's workshop making everything I could imagine. I was a wood sculptor. If I had a sudden interest in rabbits, I would sneak into the cozy shed in the backyard, pick out a decently sized portion of dry, soft wood, and my hands would naturally start to work with the carving knife.

Sadly, I had to leave all my creations – my father's included – back home in Philadelphia. Now I could picture that rabbit I had made when I was eleven, a year before Jack was kicked out. We had been playing outside in the garden, and Jack was showing me how to plant some carrots. I helped him nurture the tiny plants until they were ready to harvest, and that's when the cutest creature hopped out of the bushes.

"_Aw, Jack, look!" I exclaimed, my eyes glowing at the adorable bunny. _

_Jack turned around from his gardening and saw what I was melting over. "You're such a girl, Rose," he commented, turning back to his work._

_I stared at the fuzzy brown rabbit with the pointy ears as it started to nibble on the grass, its nose twitching. I crossed my arms at my chest and shifted my weight on my left hip. "Do you think he's hungry?" I asked, a little concerned. "It looks like a baby."_

_I heard a sigh escape Jack's lungs, but I knew that he cared about animals just as much as I did. "I know!" he cried, taking his gardening gloves off. "Come here."_

_I took my eyes off the bunny and crouched next to Jack, beaming at the large pile of fresh carrots straight from the ground. "Oh, look at how wonderful we did!" I had to comment, picking one up by the top, not bothered by the dirt sneaking under my manicured nails._

"_What would you say to petting that bunny rabbit over there?" he asked me, watching it stare at us. I couldn't tell if it looked hungry or scared._

"_I would love to!" I said, grabbing a carrot._

"_Now watch closely," he explained, approaching the creature slowly. "Hey, little guy," he cooed, dangling the carrot a few inches away from the rabbit. Its cotton tail twitched. I decided to do the same, so I crouched down on the balls of my feet and dangled the vegetable from my dainty fingers. "Do you want some—"_

_I was shocked when the little rabbit hopped towards me, nibbling on my carrot. "Wow, Rose," I heard Jack comment as my eyes widened in surprised, "your eyes are as big as saucers." We both laughed, and I let the rabbit sniff my hand so I could pet it._

At first I kept walking on the Southampton streets, unaware of where I was going. But with the memory fresh in my mind, I remembered the one person I could see in a time of distress. Pulling out a scrap of paper from a hidden pocket in my dress, I read what was written there: 2456 Rose Street.

Smiling through my stuffy nose and tears, I now knew where I was headed.

...

I appeared half an hour later in front of an old apartment building. Checking the address and realizing I'd found the right place, I went up to the door and knocked. An old man answered, and by the look on his face, he was shocked. (Probably by the fact my clothes were so fancy compared to his apartment complex - and also the fact that no one knocks on doors that lead to apartment complexes.) Sniffling, I asked, "Excuse me, sir, I'm here to see Jack Dawson."

The man raised an eyebrow. "And who might you be?"

I gulped. Why did he care? "I-I'm a friend of his. A good friend," I said.

The man eyed me, sighed, and then said, "Come on in, miss."

...

I knocked on the door the man had brought me to. My heart thumped unusually hard, and I did my best not to burst into tears again. But I knew that right when I looked at his face, I would be bawling until I had told him everything, from how I missed his presence at home and how my mother's setting me up for marriage. And not just that, but the humiliation of it all being announced to the world _without my consent__!_

When he opened the door and I saw the smile on his face, I did exactly what I expected. I fell into his arms and started crying.

After I had told him everything on my mind, I dared myself to look up at his face. It was full of concern and, of course, questions. Wiping my eyes with the back of my hand, I sniffed so it wouldn't be so quiet.

"You know, Jack," I said quietly, "it's been years and I still haven't told you this, but nothing's been the same since you left."

I didn't know what it meant when he didn't answer. I put my arms around his neck and hugged him closely, calming my broken self. "I didn't mean to put so much on you. I know it's been hard since you got kicked out of the house."

Jack hugged me back with just as much care, and then he pulled away and looked me directly in the eye. "Listen, Rose," he said, gentle enough that it made me want to burst into tears again, "your problems don't bother me, even if they're frustrating. You know I'll always be here to help you through them, someone who'll listen."

I smiled, and wiped another tear from my cheek. "I've always known that."

He smiled back, and we hugged again. I whispered in his ear, "Thank you," and he replied with, "You're welcome." Comforted, we took a couple minutes of an easy silence in each other's arms.

Pulling away and smiling, I looked around the small, decent room. "It looks like you've finally found yourself a real place," I said.

Jack nodded and then smiled mischievously. "I chose it for the street name," he teased. I hit him playfully on the arm.

"That was sweet of you," I said, winking. "Rose is the street's title."

We both laughed, and I realized how at ease I was in Jack's presence. Sighing, I looked at the drawings on the wall. "I see you've still been drawing, Monsieur Big Artiste."

Jack laughed at my words. "Of course I have, what else would I be doing?" he said in a fake French accent, which I smiled at.

"You've always made me in a better mood," I said.

"It's what I'm known for."

The smile disappeared from my face. "Jack, have you read the newspapers lately?" I asked.

Jack's smile faded, too. "Yes, but I don't want to believe it."

Sitting on the bed, I sighed and shook my head. "It's been two years since my father died. In those couple years, my mother has found Caledon Hockley, and I know she's been planning something with Lord Hockley behind my back. I know what society wants. It's not like I'm ignorant. It's just, I wish my mother would ask me about my opinion for once," I confessed. Tears pricked at my eyes. "I know exactly what they're doing - my mother, Mr. Hockley, and all those narrow-minded people who call themselves society!" Fury, embarrassment, and desperation rose in my voice. "They want to see the most-wanted bachelor with the prettiest girl on the block! Oh, and she has to have a good bloodline, too. Very fair indeed!" My voice cracked; I had almost come close to choking from my tears.

Putting my head in my hands, I sobbed, "Two years, Jack! I haven't lived for two years!" My hands ached for the feel of a carving ache in its grasp, my fingers twitching to graze soft wood.

I felt his protective arms go around me. "You're alive, Rose. That's all that matters. Stay strong for me, okay? You have this fire about you, and it's still burning."

I looked up at him with teary eyes. "You think I'm strong-willed, Jack? God, I feel like an object."

He smiled. "What kind of object?"

"A doll," I scoffed, rolling my eyes. "A doll everyone's been playing with, whispering behind my back."

We stared at each other for what seem liked eternity, his blue eyes mixing with my green ones. "I don't know what's left," I said, breaking the silence, but not our gaze.

The corner of his mouth turned upwards. "You have me."

I laughed and a smile appeared on my face. "I do," I said, nodding my head. Wiping my nose on my sleeve (as unladylike as that was), I looked down at my lap, and my soft, unused hands. "These were made for work," I told him, showing him my palms. He took both of my hands in his calloused ones, and we studied our entwined fingers.

Jack didn't say anything at first. When he did, he said, "Look outside, Rose."

I met his eyes, and gave him a confused look. "Why?"

He smiled at me. "Just open the curtain and look."

I began to slip my feet out of my shoes, which fell to the floor with a soft _thud_. Climbing up on my knees on the bed we were sitting on, I opened the heavy curtains a little wider and gasped at the view. "Jack!" I exclaimed. "It's beautiful out here!"

I gaped what my eyes saw: basically the whole city! There were the crowded streets and sidewalks, the European-styled buildings, and the ocean in the background, sun setting near the water. The sand sparkled like tiny crystals.

I looked back at Jack and grinned at him. "This is amazing!"

He didn't say anything, so I looked back at the scenery. Sighing, I put my hands on the windowsill, and bent forward to get a better view. After a few minutes of staring at the scene laid in front of me, I turned around asked him, "Why did you tell me to look out, Jack?"

He exhaled thoughtfully, his next words were serious. Sometimes he was a fatherly figure to me. "There's a whole world out there for us, Rose. It's not only Southampton." He took my hand in his, and by that point I had looked back out at the window. "You have to just find your place."

I didn't look up. I was afraid he would be able to see my heart thudding. Instead, I let his fingers caress the back of my hand. I didn't break the moment.

After a few minutes, I took Jack's arm. "Let's go to the beach!" I squealed, and ran out of the room with my shoes in hand, waving at him to come. "Come on!"

Little did I notice that day how he looked at me, or his hesitant attempt to admit his confession.

...

I screamed when salty water splashed over my face and hair. Shocked, my mouth opened in a wide O-shape. I finally unfroze and splattered cold ocean droplets in Jack's direction. "Serves you right!" I exclaimed, laughing at his reaction. The water was cool for a nice summer day.

We played in the water a little more. It didn't start out that way: We first started kicking sand at each other's feet, and while I waded in the waves a few inches above my ankles to clean up, Jack had splashed me, soaking my clothes thoroughly. We then started playing around, kicking wet sand and salt water at each other.

Suddenly, Jack had me in his arms, and we came crashing down in the waves. I came up, sputtering and clearly shocked. _He's so going to get it now..._

When he came up from the surface, laughing at me and saying, "You should've seen your face!" I put all my weight on his shoulders and dragged him down. We stayed that way for a while, underwater, just enjoying each other's company, when I swear I heard him say something. Surfacing, I pushed my wet hair out of my face, looked at him curiously, and said, "What?"

Jack blinked at me. "What?"

I playfully splashed some water at his face. "Don't act all innocent! You said something, didn't you?"

Jack's face flushed red. "Yeah..."

"What did you say?"

I tried to encourage him by smiling and blinking my eyes innocently, but he just shook his head and said, "It doesn't matter." He started swimming to shore, and I only stared back at him, wondering what he could've said that made him so embarrassed.

"Jack, wait up!" I yelled as I tried to catch up to him. Of course he was the better swimmer, and by the time I was close to shore I was panting. A small wave caught me up and plopped me on the sand. It looked as though I had almost been drowned, and miraculously swept up by the waves and brought to the shore.

Jack was putting his shoes back on, and his face looked like he was struggling with inner conflicts. I got up, took my shoes, and walked up to him. "Are you okay?" I asked sympathetically.

He didn't answer for a moment, then said, "I'm fine." He stuffed his hands in his pockets and refused to look at me. "Are you sure?" I asked, unconvinced. He nodded his head, but I could tell he was not firm on his words.

Playing at the sand with my toe, the silence was awkward. Usually we didn't have those moments; our silences were comfortable and never uneasy at all. Yet right now I felt like running away or hiding, barely able to take the soundless air around us.

Finally, I realized he wasn't leaving soon. "It's getting late." I broke the stillness, and felt a great weight lift off the surrounding air. "I should get going." I put my hand on Jack's shoulder, smiling a little as I did so. "I had fun today, Jack. Good night."

I then walked away, and for the second time that day, I was blind.


	4. Birthday Wishes

**Fun Fact #4: Unsinkable Ship?**

**Though **_**Titanic**_** was branded well, being called "unsinkable" and the "ship of dreams," that still didn't make up for its lack of lifeboats. However, the White Star Line supplied the more than the minimum number of lifeboats needed by law. There were sixteen lifeboats with four collapsibles, enough for one-third of the passengers aboard. It wasn't until after the sinking that codes were changed, and now there has to be enough lifeboats for every passenger on the ship. Also taking in the fact that the ship was made of iron and held together by three million rivets, certainly not strong enough to withstand a collision, the so-called "water-tight" bulkheads only reached up to E deck, allowing water to spill over like it was a giant cup and into the next one. The **_**Titanic**_** could only stay afloat with three, even four, of the bulkheads full, but the iceberg had filled five. Even on her way out of Southampton, the **_**Titanic **_**almost collided with the **_**New York, **_**causing quite a spectacle on deck.**

**Chapter 3**

**Birthday Wishes**

_She found herself breathing heavily, her tears smearing her makeup. Before she knew it, she was in a frenzy again, tearing the dress apart. White cloth went everywhere, and she then knew what to do. Taking off her high-heeled shoes, she opened the door and ran._

For as long as I could remember, Jack has always told me everything. Never before has he ever hesitated to tell me something that's on his mind. Why was it so different now?

Since I was six, the hardest part about being friends with Jack was our age difference – he was three years older than me. I remember a romance novel I read once, where a lonely woman of society fell in love with the older – and uninterested – stableman. It was written by one of those liberal woman who are shocking the globe; now that I think back on it, it was a surprise that I wasn't caught reading it by my conservative mother.

I always thought a relationship with Jack would be something like that: My young woman naivity mixing in with my loneliness, throwing myself at an older man who was obviously uninterested in a relationship. How else could I describe it?

I scuffed my toe on the pavement, the pebble I was aiming at scuttling across the road as I entered the more reputable part of town. I shoved my hands deep in the pockets of my dress. I guess the reason why Jack and I became such close friends was because of our seclusion.

I got home that day soaked to the bone and covered in sand. I closed the door behind my as quietly as I could, then tiptoed across the plush carpet. I tried my best not to drip ocean water over the floor, but I was caught halfway across the hall by my mother.

Ruth DeWitt Bukater was very strict, as I have mentioned. She never liked the idea of children having fun. That's why I was scared of her expression when she saw my dress, dripping water all over the carpet, my feet tracking sand as well.

Mother sighed. "Rose, where have you been?"

I gulped. I couldn't lie, but I had to. For Jack's sake. I closed my eyes and hoped my acting skills would make it look as though I was tired. Taking a deep breath, I said, "I was so excited for my birthday festivities, that I thought I needed some fresh air, and decided to go to the beach and celebrate."

Mother glared at me. I knew she didn't believe me. I gave her a weak smile to convince her. She just shook her head, took my arm, and lectured me all the way up the stairs about how swimming in the ocean and playing on the beach was something a lady shouldn't do.

"But, Mother-"

"No buts! You will be staying in this room until tomorrow evening, when we have somewhere to go and get ready for. You understand, Rose? No sneaking out!"

I nodded, my lips pressed tightly together. "Yes, Mother."

I was left locked in my room that night.

...

_July 15th, 1911_

_Rose,_

_Happy Upcoming 17th Birthday! I know you'd probably be at one of those long, boring formal parties, but that wouldn't stop me from writing this card and preparing your birthday surprise. I finally got upgraded to an apartment building instead of that old motel. The address is 2456 Rose Street. Visit me sometime. Come on over on July 22._

_Your friend,_

_Jack_

_P.S. No hints!_

I kept folding the piece of paper over and over again in my hands. It was on plain white stationary paper, yet its words held a lot more to me than its appearance.

I was in deep thought over Jack's behavior today. His actions still confused me. Blinking, I noticed that he had stared at me, and not the beautiful city view. I sighed frustratingly and stood up from my bed. I walked over to my vanity, where I unlocked the drawer at the very bottom on the left.

Opening it, I smiled. It had all of my memories with Jack in it. Pictures, some of his drawings, my own attempted drawings, and letters. I put the birthday card he wrote me in there, too, for safe keeping. I locked the drawer and put the key back around my neck, where it hung on a silver chain. I was afraid of losing it, or someone finding it, so I decided to keep it with me at all times.

I walked over to the window and opened the curtains. It was a starry night, and I sat on the soft loveseat that was positioned right in front of the window. Watching the stars and moon, I smiled at how they twinkled and glowed. That's when I saw a shooting star, and gasped in delight.

Putting my hands together, I went over what I wanted to wish for in my head. _Look at myself!_ I thought. _Seventeen today and still acting like a little girl._ Looking back up at the sky, I smiled and whispered, "I wish for a way to get out of the house tomorrow."

Content, I left the curtain open, turned off the lights, and crawled into bed, thinking of what Jack's confession was in the water earlier that day.

...

_"Jack, let's go down to the river today! My daddy says that now's a perfect time, since it's no longer overflowing." I had struggled earlier that day into an old dress I wouldn't mind ruining, and a pair of rubber boots. I pulled my hair back in a ponytail that I tied with my favorite red ribbon. _

_I took Jack's hand and excitedly pulled him to the door. "Come on, Jack, it will be fun!" I smiled big, showing all my teeth. It was something Jack found amusing and convincing._

_Jack was eleven, and I had just turned eight. I had wanted to take him to the river since he was accepted in our family, but never had the chance to with all the formal parties I had to attend and all the time I've spent in the workshop with my father. I couldn't wait until I was actually old enough to hold a carving knife! _

_I was getting ready to pout when he took my arm instead and pulled me out the door, laughing. "Don't fuss, Rosie, I was just playing around with you." And so we headed off to the riverside._

_When we got there, I was the first to dare myself into nearing the side of the river. It was muddy and slippery, but I did my best to not to fall in. Jack cautiously followed behind me. "What do you want to do now?" he asked me, and I smiled. "Do this!" I exclaimed, and before he knew it he was pushed in. _

_I laughed until my little face was cherry red. He appeared at the surface and chuckled along with me. I was snickering so much, I rarely had time to react to his hand on my ankle, and how I was only able to scream before I hit the cold water. _

_Surfacing, I coughed up water. "Jack!" I whined. "Why'd you do that?" Before he could answer, I reached to the back of my head and my eyes widened. My ribbon was gone! I now saw it floating away fast down the river. "My ribbon!" I screamed, and that's when Jack disappeared under the foaming waves__._

_Scared for my best friend, I waded out of the pool and looked for a sign of Jack's body under the current. When I didn't see anything, I began to cry. _I lost my best friend for a stupid ribbon! _I berated myself, but that was before I heard gasping breathes and dripping clothes on mud. _

_Turning around, I saw Jack. "Jack!" I exclaimed, running at him and throwing my arms around him. "I can't believe you did that!" We both smiled at each other, and he handed me my ribbon. "I knew that this one was your favorite," he said, breaking our hug to hand me it._

_I smiled at it, but then realized that ribbons weren't important. "Oh, Jack!" I cried. "I almost lost you for this thing__." I grinned guiltily and tied it back in my hair. "But on a brighter note," I said hopefully,__"it's __showed me that friendship is much more important." I showed my teeth in a weak smile and spread out my arms, content when he pulled me into a hug. _

_..._

_When I was twelve years old, I was working on a masterpiece of mine – an elegant swan made of the finest mahogany – when I decided a break would do me some good. I'd been feeling weird all day (like clamminess and a lack of energy) but I pushed it aside as the weird spring weather._

_Jack was the one to hear my screams. He used his time when he wasn't on duty drawing. He was on the staircase talking with one of the other servants when his ears picked up my howl of horror. He gave a wide-eyed glance to the cleaning woman and bolted down the stairs, his fist pounding on the bathroom door. "Rose!" he cried worriedly. "Are you all right?"_

_I sniffled inside the room, staring at the red stuff in my underwear. I mumbled, "No… Can you fetch my mother?" My voice cracked and I sniffed again._

_Ruth was the next person to appear at the door. She asked me with concern, "Rose, can you explain to me the situation?" Her and Jack anticipated my answer._

"_Um…," they heard Rose's echoic voice through the bathroom door. Inside, Rose was blushing furiously, finally recalling her biologic studies. "I'm bleeding?"_

_Ruth shooed Jack away from the door and opened it, giving him a glare as she closed it behind her. She then turned around to face her growing daughter, whose toe was playing with the rug. "Shall I explain?" she asked in that bossy, mothering way of hers._

_Rose's nose twitched and she shook her head._

_On the way out I gave Jack a comforting smile that said, "Don't worry about me." Jack, on the other hand, had an inkling of what happened, and his mind knew exactly what would become of him._

_I was led into my father's office. He rubbed my back soothingly as my mother told him that I had started my period._

"_You know what that means, Charles," she said hesitantly, keeping her nose high in the air._

_I blinked up at her. "What?"_

_Ruth sighed and patted her daughter's hand. "Rose, your father and I have been discussing this matter and when it will happen. I'm sorry I have to inform you that –"_

"_Ruth," Father interrupted, his eyes full of warmth. "Let me tell her."_

_My mind was burning with curiosity, but I didn't ask again. I stared into my father's eyes as he explained, "Rose, now that you're becoming a woman, your mother and I agreed that there should be no boys in the house."_

_My heart went cold, the blood sinking down to my feet. "W-what?" I stuttered, not fully comprehending the situation. "You mean…"_

_He nodded, and I felt like I wanted to cry. "I'm sorry, Rose, but Jack's going to be dismissed by the end of this week."_

_I stomped out of the room and searched for Jack. I almost ran into him when I rounded the corner. He was dusting a painting and table. He smiled at me, almost sadly, as if he knew exactly what I did__._

_"I heard what happened today," Jack said, sighing. "Your mother explained it all."_

_I reddened, embarrassed. "Why would she tell you that?" I asked._

_"Because it's a warning to me that I should pack up." My heart sunk, realizing that my parents were being serious._

_"You don't have to go!" I yelled unknowingly, clamping my hand over my mouth. Jack shushed me, and put his arms on my shoulders. "It's nothing bad, Rosie," he said. Tears began to fill my eyes again. "It just means you__'re__ growing up. But because you're growing up, it's no longer appropriate, as your mother puts it, for me to be in the house anymore."_

_I knew what he was talking about. I didn't have to explain it. "Don't leave me, Jack! I'll be all alone," I whimpered. The perfect, gossiping lips of the girls I went to school with burned in my mind, stirring bad memories of when she would come home from school crying with Jack to comfort her._

_Jack sighed, not knowing what to say. "Look, I'm fifteen. Don't worry about me. I'm old enough now to live on my own."_

_I threw my arms around him and began to sob. _

_..._

_"Happy birthday, Jack!" I exclaimed happily, throwing my arms around him into a big hug. "You're now an official adult." _

_It was Jack's eighteenth birthday, and I had begged my mom to let me go shopping for a new dress for the occasion. She caved in, but tried to talk me out of it each time I tried on a different gown. I ignored her the whole time, including her complaints when I paid for a nice peach one, which was simple yet beautiful._

_I smiled at him, big and wide, as we pulled apart. "Thanks, Rose," he said. _

_"Hey, you deserve it," I said. _

"_How's your dad?" he ask__ed me, concerned. _

_My smile faltered. "Nothing much has changed."_

"_I'm sorry…"_

"_It's okay…"_

_There was an awkward silence between us. Jack, noticing my dress, decided to make a nice comment. "You look nice," he said, looking me up and down__._

_My large grin returned. "Thank you."_

_We stood there in a comfortable silence before I said, "It's such a nice party, Jack. You have great friends." The party was at Jack's friend's house, by the name of Rob. I met him when I got there, and tried to be nice when he complimented me about everything. I then escaped his flirting by saying I should find Jack._

_"But only one of them is my best friend," Jack replied, and he winked. _

_I laughed. "It seems like everyone knows me when they don't. All I feel are the guys' eyes on me." I eyed my left and saw Rob smiling and staring at me while dancing with a girl. I looked away and said, "That's my point."_

_Jack laughed, weakly, though. Sighing, he said, "So, how's it been lately?"_

_"Hard. My mother's been cramming the weeks with dinners at rich people's places. She's trying to find me a 'suitable future husband,' but I doubt she's taking it seriously. I'm only fifteen, not old enough to marry."_

_Jack nodded his head, listening carefully to my story. Not knowing what else to say, I gave him my hand and asked, "Want to dance?"_

_He took it, bowed dramatically, and said in a fake British accent, "I would be honored, Miss Rose."_

_I giggled at his faux voice, and we ended up dancing the night away._

...

I woke up in the middle of the night, tears at the corners of my eyes. My mind swirled with the many memorable dreams I had experienced. Once my chest stopped heaving, I pulled myself up and contemplated the dreams – or would they be nightmares now?

Thinking of what Jack and I couldn't have made me realize how much I wanted him. I was no longer eight, or twelve, or fifteen. I wasn't that naïve anymore. How can I be, when I have things to worry about now, such as how I was old enough to marry?

_Why did you have to leave, Jack? _I thought, the delusion of my father's dying coughs echoing in my ears. _My father's left me all alone._


	5. Shooting Star

**Fun Fact #5: Another J. Dawson **

**Though director James Cameron didn't know it at the time, there was a real J. Dawson on the **_**Titanic. **_**However, his name was Joseph, and there was no evidence that he was ever called Jack. He was a trimmer in the boiler rooms, and sadly didn't survive the sinking. His body was recovered (#227) and his grave rests in Fairview Lawn Cemetery, Halifax, Nova Scotia.**

**Chapter 4**

**Shooting Star**

_She ran until she couldn't any longer. She found herself on the beach, looking for him. She needed him. For her sake, she needed him. She sat down on the sand and waited._

I woke the next morning to see bright sunshine lighting up my room. I let my eyes adjust to the daylight before slipping out of bed and tiptoeing to the window. I knew I was being silly; it was the morning after all, no one was asleep! But I liked the feeling of keeping secrets hidden from everyone, including Jack. It thrilled me, and made me feel better just thinking I knew something no one else did.

Stretching, I started scanning my closet for the perfect outfit to wear today. Something comfortable and light, nothing too flashy. I pulled out a layered white dress, comfy and smooth. I slipped it on over an old, beaten corset and smoothed it out under my fingers. It was very beautiful, and I felt like an angel in it. The silky fabric made it ever more appraisable. Smiling at myself in the body-length mirror, I wandered over to the vanity and began brushing my long, red tresses that cascaded down my back in corkscrew curls. It was a known trademark of mine, the hair color and everything. It's what made me uncomfortable under the older men's gazes. When I was alone, however, it was something I treasured in making it look presentable.

I separated my hair so most of it fell down and the rest was pulled up into a small bun. I topped it off with a mother-of-pearl hair comb, which matched the dress like it was made to. Approving of my appearance, I scanned the room for means of escape. My eyes flew past the window, but moved back when I saw the rose trellis just outside.

Opening it, I peeked down. It wasn't far from the ground, and the trellis wasn't crowded with vines and flowers, so it wouldn't be a struggling climb down. Even better, my room was in the back of the house, so no one across the street would see me. Gaining courage, I put one foot on the trellis, and then the other. Closing the window behind me, I started my rebellious climb. Only once did my foot get stuck, and I had to pull off a blooming rose to get free. When my feet touched the ground, I realized I looked like a bridesmaid holding the rose. Smiling, I wound it in my hair with the comb._ Now everyone would know what your name is, _I thought, laughing to myself. _Indirectly, of course._

I started my long journey to Jack's apartment by running out of view of my house. After that, I started at a good pace and was soon in the busy streets of Southampton once more. Sighing at the beauty of the trees and the buildings, I continued on my way until I reached the older section of town. Usually I would be scared walking down such a path, but with someone like Jack around to protect me, I knew there was nothing to fear.

I glanced up once again at the sign that held the street's name. I still had that wide smile on my face, and I probably looked like a lunatic in a good dress. Pushing that thought aside, I stood there in front of the building, breathing in and out slowly. I was nervous for some reason, something totally unlike me. I was usually so calm and strong with Jack...yet, lately I have been an anxious wreck.

Sighing, I felt my feet want to run away when I heard someone calling my name. I looked up and started laughing at what I saw.

Jack was hanging halfway out of his window, trying to catch my attention. "Rose!" he called. He started waving his arms. "What are you doing down there? Come on up!"

I smiled and yelled back, "I'll be up in just a minute!" My feet no longer glued to the pavement, I started running to the door. I could hear Jack's friendly laugh from the window. Pulling open the door with a force I had no idea I had, I started running up the stairs, ignoring the curious stare from the man at the front desk.

Only once did I hear someone open their door from the sound of hearing heels clicking on the creaking, wooden stairs, and I had thrown my arms around him like all best friends do in greeting.

"I forgot to say happy birthday to the birthday girl yesterday, didn't I?" Jack said, still in my embrace.

"It's okay, your card said enough," I said.

I heard the sound of someone opening the door across the hall, and a whistle. Pulling apart, I saw a man peering out from his doorway, looking at me and Jack. "That's some girl you've got there, Dawson," he said. His stare on me felt awkward. I pushed past Jack and into the room, trying to ignore the fight that had started. When it ended, there was the slamming of a door and a long, deep sigh from Jack. "I'm sorry you had to see that, Rose," he said, coming to sit next to me on the bed.

"It's fine, Jack. I was barely paying attention anyway," I said, lacing my fingers through the layers of my skirt.

Jack smiled at me, and took my hand. "Now, that surprise I promised you," he said, pulling me to my feet.

"You mean, we have to go somewhere?"

Jack nodded, his smile plastered on his face. "Come on!" he said, pulling my hand. I laughed even harder. "Let's go!"

...

We had walked a long distance, when suddenly Jack came up behind me and put his hands over my eyes. "Jack!" I exclaimed, having a great time. "What are you doing?"

I could hear him chuckling. "You'll see. Just keep your eyes closed!"

I nodded. "Okay."

"Do you trust me?" he whispered into my ear playfully.

I smirked. "I trust you."

Right when those words came out of my mouth, I felt a tree root cling on to my foot, and I went tumbling to the ground. "Oof!" I said as the breath was punched out of my lungs.

I could hear Jack laughing so hard, it made me giggle and forget the red mark on my knee that will obviously leave a bruise. "Ha ha, you're _so _funny." He helped me up and we continued walking, and after making him apologize ten times I let him put his hands back over my eyes.

We walked for a few more minutes, and I found myself getting impatient. "Jack, are we there yet?" I put my hands over his and started tugging at them to move away from my eyelids. He just laughed. "Leave them there, Rosie, you're barely moving them!"

I sighed and put my hands down. "You're too strong for me, Jack Dawson. You can break me like a twig! Should I be scared?" I joked.

I didn't hear any laughter, though. Instead I heard him say, "Don't worry, Rose, you know I would never do that."

The smile was cleared off my face at the sound of his voice, which was almost sad, yet strong.

A few more minutes passed. "Jack, I can close my eyes perfectly fine."

Jack sighed. "All right, but you've got to promise no peeking!"

I rolled my eyes and closed them. "I promise!"

Jack's hands were removed from my face, and I heard his footsteps fade away from me. _Where's he going? _I kept my eyes closed and irritably tapped my foot._ I hate waiting._

I then heard his footsteps advancing towards me. I strained my ears to listen. Were those other footsteps I heard, other than Jack's?

"Okay," I heard Jack say. "Open your eyes."

I blinked rapidly, the light of the sun bothering my pupils which had been hidden for quite some time. When they cleared, I gasped. "Jack, no! You didn't!"

Jack's smile grew on his face like an infection. "You told me how you've always wanted to ride horses on the beach."

In front of me was a real, live horse. Her coat was full of luster and a deep, chestnut brown. Her eyes were green, just like mine, and she had a strange pattern on the center of her head. I gaped some more and began stroking her head. "I did, didn't I?" I smiled at the memory of it all.

"So you like it?"

"Like it? Jack, I love it!" I threw my arms around him again. "Thank you so much!"

"You're welcome, Rose."

I stroked the unique white pattern on the horse's forehead. "This is a strange marking," I said, examining it. "It almost looks like it's supposed to resemble-"

"A rose flower?" Jack interrupted, smiling ear to ear.

I smiled back, not able to contain my happiness. "Yes, exactly."

"That's why I bought her, Rose. I knew she was perfect for you. The marking said it all."

I nodded and smirked. "You've got great taste when it comes to picking horses."

Jack laughed at my inquiry. "I guess it's a new skill to go along with my artwork!" he joked.

My eyes twinkled, and my lips felt like they were glued into a smile. "Thank you, Jack. Again."

"It was nothing, Rose. It's your birthday, after all."

I felt guilt creep up and disturb my exaltation. How much money did he have to spend to get this beautiful horse? He wasn't rich, after all, and I could no longer help him...

Instead, I swallowed it and put the smile back on my glowing face.

"You never named her," Jack inquired, petting the horse behind the ears.

My mind raced through a list of names I could pick from. "Uh, let's see...," I said, putting my finger to my chin and thinking. Then, it hit me. "Aha! Claris will be her name!"

Jack tilted his head. "Why Claris?"

I shrugged. There was no real answer. "It sticks." I continued to pet the horse's nose, and she made soft noises of pleasure. "You're a good girl!" I exclaimed, focusing my attention on the horse now. "Yes, you are, Claris!"

Jack smiled to himself, no longer paying attention to me or the horse. "Claris it is."

...

"Catch me if you can, Jack Dawson, but I don't think it's possible!"

Jack and I had been riding horses (on the beach, of course) the whole morning and afternoon, only stopping long enough to eat lunch. Afterwards, we hopped right back on, and I complained to Jack for a while on how I had to ride sidesaddle because my dress restricted me from riding a horse the masculine way.

"I don't want to be a first-class girl anymore!" I told Jack as we trotted across the sand. He rode a black stallion named La Noire, who bobbed his head up and down at that moment. "It seems like La Noire agrees with me."

Jack laughed and petted the stallion's long, black mane. "He's right, you know. You shouldn't be a first class girl. You got mailed to the wrong address!"

I put my head down on Claris's head, right between the ears, and said, "Is that what you think?" I hugged her more closely, and smiled at her mane, which closely resembled the rich color of my own.

Jack nodded. "Yeah, that's what I think. Rose, you've never been like them. Nor would you ever be."

I listened to his words, soaking them in. How true they were! I will never be like those upper society females who find gossip and appearance so important. I've always been an outcast at school (which I was eventually pulled out of due to bullying reasons). I mean, here I was, living in the moment and wishing I could ride like a man instead of ladylike sidesaddle. Sighing, I closed my eyes and understood his words, and how they made my future...

"Are you okay, Rose? You just slipped away into a dream land."

I opened my eyes slowly and lifted my head. "I'm fine, just in...deep thought."

Jack chose his words carefully. "Do you mind sharing a bit what these thoughts are?"

I glanced at him and sighed again. Why did his hair have to fall into his eyes _just like that__?_ It made him look like a boy more than a man, but it really made me feel weak.

"I was thinking that maybe... I should run away."

"Could you elaborate what you mean by 'run away'?"

I struggled with my words. "I mean, I'm old enough to marry now. My family's in debt. I'd probably marry for money, not love. What's the point of making my life miserable because of my father's mistake? He loved me in every way possible. He would want me happy. That's why I want you to take me away, Jack. Take me far away from all this society nonsense, where friends can be friends without being judged. We could explore the world together." I dared myself to look at him. "Wouldn't that be fun?" 

His eyes looked troubled, shocked. I didn't mean for my words to shake him to the core; it all just came out in a rush, before I could control it. After what seemed like forever, I finally looked away from his afflicted gaze and put my head back down on Claris's head, staring at the ocean and away from him. I loved the way the sun set, freeing a billion colors on the water and splashing some on the sky. I loved the smell of the air, the feel of the sand between my toes, and the occasional splash of the sea. I loved it all, yet I couldn't have it.

_Forget it, Rose,_ I thought. _He doesn't want you. You'll just be a trouble and a bore on his journeys. You're just another one of those unwanted, desperate society girls._

I felt tears welling up in my eyes when I heard Jack speak. "You're my best friend, Rose. How can I _not_ take you with me?"

I snapped my head back around and smiled at him. The look on his face was contagious: His blue eyes sparkled, one corner of his mouth turned up into a small grin, and a strong laugh came from his throat. I started to laugh as well; my mind spun, so I put my head back down on Claris 's chestnut head. We kept laughing until our stomachs began to hurt, and so we trotted down the rest of the beach in a comfortable, planned silence.

...

"You never did tell me, Jack, what you said on the beach yesterday."

Jack and I had tied our horses outside of a restaurant, for it was getting late and our stomachs growled. I thought now was a better time than never to pester him about his mumbled words under the water yesterday. It really piqued my curiosity, and I had a right to know. After all, it was directed towards me, wasn't it?

Jack seemed to burn a deep red that reached down his neck, and I laughed a bit to clear the tension. "What could you have possibly said that makes you so nervous and jumpy?" I inquired. I decided to be light and easy on him, so I broke our gaze and started eating my food, which just arrived.

"It's…_complicated_," he finally said, running a hand through his overgrown, dirty-blond hair. I sighed and put my fork down.

"What do you mean by complicated, Jack? I just confessed everything that was complicated in my life to you just a mere couple hours ago." I was now upset at Jack's lack of trust.

"Rose," he said, urging me to look into his eyes. "It's not about you, okay? It's about me. It was something that slipped my mouth before I knew I said it. It's the past now."

"Well, Jack, if it truly was complicated, then maybe it's better to say than have locked up. Maybe if you shared it it would make the rest of your life easier and happier. Or maybe it would make it hard and depressing. Only you would know." I used common sense as my way of plead.

Jack was silent. I grinded my teeth. Should I just say what's on my mind? "It was about me, wasn't it? What you said?" He just blinked at me, the color still in his cheeks. "Well?" I said, awaiting his answer. "I'm waiting."

Jack gulped and said, "If it was something truly important, I would have told you already."

I shook my head. "It's important to you, Jack. I know you. You've always had a hard time sharing things that mean a lot to you. The only thing emotionally intact to you that you've been open to share is your parents' death."

"Maybe" was Jack's only answer.

...

After Jack returned his horse and I paid for rental space for mine, we walked home. Once we reached his apartment building, he asked me, "Do you want me to walk you home?"

I nodded, even though I was still angry at him, and we made our way down the empty streets.

No words were said. None needed to be. Jack's decision was final: He was not going to share what he said with me. I told him he could trust me, that usually when he was like this it made him miserable. But he refused to talk of the topic anymore, and so he changed it to life in general. He asked me how I was coping with my mother and I had just glared at him and said the exact word that was on my mind: "Miserable."

He knew I was upset. He knew he should leave me alone when I was like this. Yet right now I didn't want to be alone. I wanted someone to stay with me until I cried out all my tears on how much I wanted to leave the life I shared with my mother. I wanted for him to reassure me that he would take me away as soon as possible.

By the time we reached my house, I couldn't take it anymore. Tears began to spill down my cheeks, and I was shaking so much I couldn't explain them. When I had finally calmed down, I looked into Jack's blue eyes and declared, "You don't trust me."

Jack was startled. "What?"

I clenched my teeth in my jaw. "You don't trust me," I repeated. "If you did, you would've told me what was troubling you tonight. I know it's because of those words you refuse to tell me about."

"Rose, I-"

"Don't you see? I trust you and tell you everything! You know more things about me than I even do, because you know me better than I do sometimes!" I lowered my voice, which was rising with each word. "You truly see me, Jack. That's why I wanted you to take me away and no one else."

In the dark, I thought I saw tears in Jack's own eyes. When he moved his head so it was more in the moonlight, there were none.

"Rose, listen to me," he said. "You're a rich girl, all right? I'm just the slave boy. I can never get close to you. It was nearly impossible. If it weren't for you, we would've never got to have known each other. I know that because I've seen it. I wasn't always poor. When my family died, I was left with nothing. The fire that had destroyed our house took everything: heirlooms, money, memories, and lives. The Dawsons used to be middle class. We had our servants. The only way I was able to talk to one is if I wanted to. Other than that, they never spoke.

"When your father offered me the job, I couldn't say no. I had nowhere to go. No more family to love me. I took the job and was a DeWitt Bukater slave for three years. I saw you grow up. I saw how you changed. If you never talked to me, that's all I would've seen. And yet, even if you didn't, I probably would still be in love with you."

Jack was holding my hand until that moment. I yanked it away and took a few steps back. "W-what?" I whimpered, my voice dry and stuttering. _Love _was something I never had to confront.

Jack was hurt. I saw it on his face. I had pulled away so quickly, so abruptly, he never had the chance to finish his explanation before my hand was out of his. Gulping, I tried to hydrate my dry throat. My eyes were far from dry, though; they were pouring out unwanted tears that made the situation look worse than it seemed. Those tears also inflicted pain on Jack... I had stopped crying until he said those words: _in love with you._

_In love with you_... Do I ever feel the same way? I looked up into his eyes and saw how true and honest he was being. He really did love me. I always had those fantasies about us, but I never wanted to believe it. And because he got the chance to really know me, he loved me more than he would have if he just saw me grow up. I began to twist my earring nervously, and it fell to the ground with a tiny _clink_ sound. Bending to pick it up, he said, "That's what I was trying to tell you yesterday, Rose."

I straightened up, the earring forgotten. I didn't say anything, afraid my voice would crack and I would burst into tears again.

He smiled weakly. "I love you, Rose. I know you knew it. You just never really noticed it."

I blinked. He was right. I did kind of know it. All those heroic deeds he did when I was little (like fixing a broken doll or diving into the river to get my favorite hair ribbon, as silly as those were) and all those weak, jealous smiles he gave to the men who stared at me, like his friend Rob. I knew it all along, but it wasn't those direct words: _I love you_. It was more like: _I have high feelings for you, and I make them known by doing these things for you_.

It was all clear to me now. Jack Dawson was in love with me...and I loved him back.

"I-I..." I couldn't finish my sentence. My mother, poor and alone, popped into my mind, and it made my heart break a little. I couldn't leave my mother like that. Yet, the only way was to marry someone rich, someone but Jack... Someone like Cal. Gulping, I put myself together again and said calmly, "I know what you mean now, Jack." I rubbed my hand across my tear-streaked cheek. I could barely look him in the eye as I said my lie. "I understand now. But I love Cal. Did you know he asked me to court him yesterday? I said yes. I wasn't crying because I was upset, but because I was overjoyed to the point of tears." I bit my lip. Tears pricked my eyes. I was becoming weaker in my false tale. "And I just want to say that it's been great being friends with you, but..." I let a few tears fall before continuing. "I think it's time we end here."

I still didn't look Jack in the eye, not even after he said, "You're lying."

I closed my eyes to try and block the tears from making it seem like I really was lying... Which I was, but I was trying to make it seem like the truth. "I'm dating someone, Jack. We might even get married." I put my shaky hands behind my back. "It never was between us. Good night."

I turned to leave, but felt Jack's tender grip on my arm. "Rose, wait!" he said desperately. "What ever happened to me setting you free?"

I dared myself to look into his eyes of crystal blue. They were full of so much agony; I could barely hold his gaze. "I had too much to drink. It was all going to my head."

"I know you're lying, Rose," he whispered.

"And I know that we'll never be." I pulled out of his grip and ran back into the house before he could say anymore. I was on the verge of a waterfall of tears. I had never lied to him before.

Never.

...

Jack stood there for a few minutes, panic-stricken. He had just told Rose everything she wanted to know, and she had left him like that - in anguish. His heart felt like it might tear in two, and her lies made it all worse. He knew she was lying; as her lies progressed, she barely looked him in the eye.

It took Jack many moments to recollect himself. The light from a distant star made an object on the ground twinkle, and he bent to pick it up.

He realized it was Rose's earring. He pocketed it and intended to give it back to her whenever she came. And if she didn't, then it was his to keep as a memory of their time together.

Because for him, it was all worth it.

...

I was locked in my room again after a long lecture by my mother on how I had skipped dinner with the Hockleys. She barely noticed my broken heart as I cried, and she told me I had to attend dinner tomorrow or she'd have my head. Barely caring, I pulled my night gown on and sat, huddled, on the seat near the window. For many minutes I had watched Jack stand there, making me feel guilty. Then he had picked something off the ground and walked away.

Never before had I felt so alone. My mother was in an outrage, and I had broken my friendship with Jack. Now I had to _hope_ that Cal would propose to me so all the pain I had suffered fighting with Jack would be mended... If my heart ever will allow it. There will always be a scar.

At that moment, a bright star flew across the sky, the longest I'd ever seen. Jack had told me that his father had told him every shooting star was a soul going to heaven. I had asked him if you were supposed to make a wish on it, and he had asked me what I would've wished for.

_"I wish that our friendship will last forever. Always, Jack!"_

I was six then, and I had known with all my heart that that was what I wanted to wish for.

"I wish," I said, choosing my words with care, "for something I can't have."

How true those words were.


	6. Desperation

**Fun Fact #6: Lake Wissota Mix-Up**

**One of the more prominent goofs in the blockbuster film is when Rose attempts suicide by jumping off the back of the ship. Jack mentions that he fell into some thin ice when ice fishing out on Lake Wissota, Wisconsin. However, Lake Wissota is a manmade lake, and it wasn't created until 1915, three years after the **_**Titanic **_**sank!**

**Chapter 5**

**Desperation**

_He never came. She started to cry near sunset and didn't stop till sunrise. She didn't look up from her knees until she felt an arm on her shoulder, and she looked up to see her mother. Sniffling, she nodded and let herself be carried away..._

A few months have passed since then. Now it was December; Christmas, to be exact. The public knew of my relationship with Cal, and whispers were exchanged of a proposal coming soon. I didn't like it, of course; it just made my heart ache. I've only known him for five months. Scandalous in my eyes… But like I said, not to society. They were just getting what they wanted.

I cried last night until sleep slowly overcame me. I couldn't believe I said the words that had come out of my mouth those five – _five!_ – lonely months ago, let alone not think about how much it stung if I were in Jack's position. He was just confessing, and I was just...a brat.

A horrible friend. Wasn't that what we spent years building up: an unbreakable friendship?

My cheeks were tearstained when I woke the next morning._ He probably doesn't even want me anymore._ I knew what was expected of me as I pulled the covers off my stiff body. I dressed properly and made my way downstairs, biting my lower lip to prevent more salty tears from pouring out and ruining the makeup I so carefully put on this morning with a tremulous hand. Holding in the pain made me tremble, and I clenched my hands into fists to stop their shaking. Taking in a wobbly breath, I descended the last of the elegantly carved stairs and made my way into the drawing room.

"... Oh, yes, Mr. Hockley, she'll be down any minute now." My mother's voice couldn't have sounded more pleased. She was delighted that her daughter was being courted by a man of such title and wealth; so full of pleasure, in fact, she doesn't notice that her daughter was dying inside. Of _course_ I love Jack, how was it not obvious to me last night?

All the memories we had together started whirling inside my throbbing head. There was no one else I could tell all my secrets to, no one else who would understand that special bond I had with my father. There was no one else who would listen to me when I wanted to talk, and especially no one else who will look at me in the same way Jack did.

It was the shock that made me hesitate. It was the thought of my selfish mother living on the streets that made me say the words I said. It was all because of this upper society life I didn't want that made me break more than my own heart last night: I broke Jack's as well.

I _crushed _him. And now we haven't spoken for months, my busy social life with Cal making it nearly impossible to slip.

"Rose, there you are!"

I blinked, no emotion on my features, and looked up to see Mother and Cal smiling pleasantly at me. I stood at the doorway with my hand on the doorframe; to be honest, I didn't notice I had entered the room at all. I thought my feet were still being dragged down the hallway from thoughts of Jack.

"I'm sorry if I was late. I didn't get much sleep," I explained as I crossed the room to sit on the chair set between the selfish and the conceited. Rubbing my temple slowly to prove my point, I delicately sat upon the plush chair as Cal took my other hand and kissed it softly above the knuckle. "It's lovely to see you again, Miss Rose," he said, his eyes shimmering. "Merry Christmas."

I blinked without a care then nodded my approval. "As to you, Mr. Hockley," I responded.

"Please, what did I tell you? Call me Cal. Only Cal."

I gulped. It had been like this for months: I always calling him Mr. Hockley, and him insisting me on calling him Cal. It was my own idea to annoy him. "All right... Cal."

Mother sighed and put her hand to her heart. Her face was beaming, and it made my stomach churn. That's also when it rumbled and I realized I had no breakfast.

Cal smiled flirtatiously at me, which did no better to my empty, sick stomach. "Someone's hungry, aren't they?"

I felt my eyes widen in shock. What made him think he could talk to me in such a way? We barely know each other, and if I get my way it will never be a future romance!

Instead of yelling at him, I cleared my throat and nodded. "Yes, I haven't eaten anything this morning."

Cal stood up and gave me his arm. "Then let's dine at the French cafe downtown."

From Mother's glare, I jabbed my own arm into his and let him escort me to an awaiting carriage outside. Snow covered the ground and fell from the sky, a white blanket on the pavement. I loved the snow. It made everything seem so...unreal.

I liked unreal. It meant you can go into your own fantasy instead of live in reality.

Mother followed closely behind us. Cal gave me his hand, and I took it and heaved myself up. Once we were all settled, Cal gave directions and we clattered along.

There was a moment's silence as though it was planned. It was soon broken by my mother's words. "How's your business doing, Mr. Hockley?"

As they talked on and on about business, politics, society, and gossip, I stared blankly out the window and watched the rolling scenery. So badly I wanted to escape, the feeling of apologizing to Jack was that urgent. I eventually closed my eyes and let the soothing feel of the carriage moving forward calm me. Oh, how everything would be better if I could just see him!

...

We arrived at a very Parisian cafe half an hour later, and by that time I felt dead from hunger. I hadn't had any water or sugar to keep my body going this morning. I was so relieved when we arrived; even my drooping eyes bugged out of my head when I realized food and drink were in that small French building.

Escorted by Cal, we entered the cafe. It had vines and elegant, white arches. The tables and seats were of sturdy white wood and soft, green cushions. An exquisite, delicate table cloth put it all together. I was surprisingly content, even with my snobby mother and soon-to-be fiancé. Of course I knew he was going to propose, my mother said he was courting me, right?

But society wanted couples to wait a few months before that became a possibility, so I had plenty of time to pull off the perfect trophy wife and then ditch him.

My brain was so low on sugar, I thought I would faint when I sat down. My mind couldn't process half what I was thinking, and at first I thought I was going hysterical. Once some tea, coffee, and small cakes were delivered, I tried my best to act ladylike when all I wanted to do was chug my hot cup of tea and stuff all the cakes in my mouth. My hands shook with the temptation as I slowly sipped my tea and nibbled at a pastry.

"So, Rose," Cal began, putting his hands together, never touching his coffee. "What's your opinion on the Hockley Steel Company?"

I expected that question because I knew Cal was an arrogant jerk in the few days I've known him. I put my teacup back on the saucer and put that down as well. Thinking, I cleared my throat and said, "I've heard many great things about your steel. How it's the best of the country and used in many ships. I must agree with the people who've said these things, shouldn't I? I know it's true." I took a small sip of my tea and wanted to gag at the compliments I gave him.

"Why, thank you, Rose."

I gave him a fake smile and continued with my tea and cake. How much I wanted to escape this place and find Jack. How much I loathed my mother right now for dragging me into this. I wanted to get up and scream at her for being so self-absorbed, forcing her daughter into all this madness. And for what? For money, of course. It was Ruth DeWitt Bukater's specialty to get in the way of the wealthiest people, hoping for a little something in return. Because we were so well known, it wasn't hard. She was soon dining in luxury with John Jacob Astor or going shopping with Noel Leslie.

I was full of so much contempt at that moment. I wanted to scream, pout, and whine like a little girl again. How simple it would be if I just spoke the truth and walked away instead of living in this asylum. I felt my eyes watering from my anger, and closed my lids shut to calm myself.

When was all this going to be over?

...

After we had a fine, European breakfast, we set back out to the carriage, where Cal asked, "Would you like to go anywhere, Rose?"

I blinked at him. I wanted to say, "Take me to Jack's apartment," but knew that was too straightforward. Instead I replied, "I would like to go to the park."

I knew Jack did a lot of his drawings there. It was a place where he could draw people, since he wasn't a landscape kind of artist. I hoped and prayed that he was there, as though waiting for me. The urge to speak with him turned into a need lodged in the back of my brain.

As the carriage clattered to a stop next to the busy central park, my feet felt like they could no longer support me. My mind had gone numb with my thoughts and soon it overtook the rest of my body. My spine shook; however, if you were looking at me through Cal's or Mother's eyes, you would see a girl with a spine straight and stiff as iron. Inside I wasn't, though. Inside I was raging.

I jumped out while taking hold of Cal's waiting hand, and as he helped my mother down, I started walking. I didn't look back, I had no care to. What gave Cal the right to escort me all this morning and _all these months _and not give me a break? I came to the park for one reason and one alone: to find Jack.

I searched throughout the whole area, my patent boots leaving marks in the fresh snow, looking for that same overgrown, dirty-blond hair and shining blue eyes that were full of determination when he picked up a pencil. Sighing, I peered behind a naked tree at the busiest section of the park, the concrete area with the many benches and large, high stature fountain, which was, of course, turned off.

There weren't many people out, but the ones who were bundled up. The kids were throwing snowballs at the each other, the adults were taking a small stroll, and the elderly sat on the park benches. It was a typical day at the park.

I blinked my green irises and moved them around to scan the slightly crowded area. I saw a man with the looks of Jack, but it wasn't him. Disappointed, I retreated to find my mother and Cal, completely missing the pair of blue eyes that had gazed at me behind a tree, watching my recoiling back as I briskly walked away, my heart.

...

I wanted to burst into tears for the calamity of it all. I had asked for very few things in life, and one of them was to find Jack and apologize to him in the park. It took me all my strength to stumble back to Mother and Cal, who were waiting patiently for my arrival. I crossed my arms at my chest as I stopped in front of them, glared at Cal, and politely snapped, "Take me home." I then stomped away to the open carriage door, settling in without the help of Cal's hand.

As we rattled down the stony streets of Southampton, my mind whirred and spun. I knew that directly going to Jack at his apartment was too much to handle for me at the moment. So I decided to wait a week until I met him there. Hopefully I would find him in the park or somewhere on the streets so it wouldn't lead up to that.

After all, public places made talking much easier than in private places, my mother would say. It would mean you could nothing to embarrass yourself.

It was early afternoon by the time we reached home. My mother thanked Cal for the lovely morning and bid him farewell, along with how we'll see him later, as he left to his own home. Lips quivering, I barged into the house and sobbed all the way up to my room, where I crashed into my pillow and wondered how things could've gone so wrong.

...

Later that day, I was being corseted and dressed for dinner with the Hockleys. I kept repeating to myself, _Today's the night... Today's the night... Don't act so surprised if he asks... Just say yes and find a way out of it later..._

That was my plan, that is. To accept Caledon Hockley's proposal and then crush him like the small bug he was by breaking the engagement. I didn't know at that time how impossibly hard that would turn out to be. My plan should've been to decline his proposal entirely and suffer the consequences later.

How ignorant I was.

We arrived an hour later at the Hockleys' mansion. It was the largest home I'd ever seen, complete with a garden full of fresh roses (I tried not to laugh at Cal's attempt for a good impression) and elegant steel gates with stone statues. Gulping, that's when I first realized how terribly tough accepting his proposal will be. Not only would it be in this huge house, but who else did he summon for the night? Was it just his family and mine, or dozens of others already gossiping that the most desired bachelorette of the city was to soon be engaged to the most eligible bachelor of the _country__?_ I hadn't realized Caledon Hockley's largely known existence until that moment.

Surprisingly, I made it to the front door, my hands shaking. A butler escorted us in and announced, "Mrs. Ruth DeWitt Bukater and her lovely daughter Miss Rose," before bowing and walking away, leaving us with the Hockely family and fortune.

Cal sauntered up to us and did a polite bow to Mother. Then he took my hand and kissed it (I was relieved it was gloved), looking deep into my eyes and saying, "It's nice to see you again, Rose."

I didn't respond. I didn't have to. Because at that moment my world was a small cage, locked from the outside world, and I was the bird, no longer able to spread my wings and fly away.

My world was no longer mine.

...

The dinner went as expected. Everyone chatted with each other while I tried to make as little small talk as possible. There were only two other families present besides my own and the Hockleys: the world renowned Astors and Guggenheims. It unnerved me that the wealthiest families in all of England, and possibly the world, were here to watch my soon-to-be-announced engagement to the son of the Pittsburgh steel tycoon. I could barely eat without my stomach churning and wanting to spit it all back up. Food wasn't important to me at that moment.

I had plucked a grape off a silver platter and plopped it in my mouth. I thought a juicy, sweet fruit would help my nerves, but my body rejected it, and it ended up back in my hand, spit out. Blushing, I looked around to see that no one had seen me, and so I dropped the grape on my uneaten plate and patiently waited, fiddling my thumbs underneath the table.

Eventually Nathan Hockley, also known as Cal's father, stood up and clanked his spoon against his wine glass. Clearing his throat, everyone stopped talking or gossiping or whatever they were doing and politely looked up at the master of the house. I felt a slight sweat on my brow.

I knew what was expected of me. But why did it all matter to me as Cal took my hand, pulled out a huge diamond ring, and asked for my hand in marriage? Why couldn't I just be honest and say no, I didn't want to marry him? Wasn't I always the one saying how much I wanted to escape this life of high luxury?

Didn't I promise Jack I'd run away with him?

But then I thought of the many letters I'd sent to him, which he never replied to. I thought of how he never tried to contact me in the past five months. Anger boiling inside my veins, I said exactly what I thought would take me away from my sorrows.

"Yes," I said, my mouth finally able to make words. "Yes, I will marry you."

As Cal stood up and pulled me into a hug, slipping the ring on my finger, I watched as Jack's smiling face disappeared in front of my eyes. Even through my anger my heart sunk.

_What have I done?_


	7. Heartache

**Fun Fact #7: The Millionaires' Suites**

**First-class cabins stretched out from A deck all the way down to D deck, giving a wide range of cabins, from parlor suites to berths, available for the wealthy. There were two parlor suites on B deck that were the size of three regular cabins, called the "Millionaires' Suites" because of the deluxe accommodations. Consisting of a sitting room, bedroom, bath, and private promenade deck, the total amount for this luxury was around 870 pounds - 83,000 dollars today! The one located on the starboard side (B51, 53, 55) was occupied by the Cardeza family. The other on the port side (B52, 54, 56) was originally booked by J.P. Morgan, but he canceled last minute. In the blockbuster movie, it was taken by Rose's family. However, that was another goof, because it was immediately taken by J. Bruce Ismay.**

**Chapter 6**

**Heartache**

_... From the person she really loved, to the world she wished to have. He betrayed her, and her heart ached. Her mother dealt with her pathetic sobs by not asking any questions or complaining. _

_Hockley and DeWitt Bukater Engagement Announced!_

My life had turned into a mess. What I thought would make my life more durable, with a rich man towing me along as his fiancée, made it seemingly worse. I had thought that with everyone distracted by the upcoming wedding, I would be able to sneak away and see Jack.

I had tried sending more letters to him, pleading for him to speak with me and that I was sorry about the engagement. But whatever he was doing – ignoring me, I presume – he was good at it, and so we had spent weeks apart. Fall turned into winter, and winter was now turning into spring. The last time I saw him was practically my birthday in July.

I shoved the brush through my hair fiercely, wanting to scream. A stupid girl I was! After Cal got what he wanted – a darling fiancée – I was now the most ignored person in the city. By my love, by my mother, and by my fiancé. When I tried to speak to him about our wedding plans, he just shushed me and said he was busy with the steel company back in the U.S. _Great,_ I thought as I walked away from him that day, _I agreed to marry the most arrogant man in the country._

I could've been with Jack for months now. In the next year we could've been married and have our large share of fun…

I growled and shook my head, letting out a small scream. Why think of what couldn't be? I looked like a rabid animal; I certainly felt like one.

A fool I was, as well. To believe my mother would ever let herself be turned into a penniless seamstress! No, Ruth DeWitt Bukater had her ways, one of those being to make her daughter feel guilty for their predicament. And so I fell for her tricks, convincing myself that money was the only way out of this stressful life that I wanted so badly to turn into something good. Or to end... I had those thoughts sometimes.

I finished brushing my hair and glared at my reflection. A seventeen-year old girl stared back at me. How did I know that running away with Jack would make me happy? How would I know if I was really in love, or just wanted intimate relations?

_I'd be happier, _I thought, my eyes softening. _So much happier…_

…

Gullible girl I was! As the day passed by, I started scolding myself again, lost in thoughts of what could've been. Through my ranting, I had failed to notice the dozens of bouquets laid out in front of me, emanating the pungent smell of freshly cut flowers. Cringing at the overwhelmingly sweet stink, I said, "Pardon?" and did my best to listen to the woman asking me questions.

A day turned into a week. A week turned into two weeks. And before I knew it, April had begun, and my mind was so twisted with longing for Jack and getting away from this arranged marriage that I so foolishly agreed to that my heart hurt. It ached, it constricted, it no longer wanted to help me live. My thoughts were large whirlpools of nothing, for I had nothing else to think about anymore. Mother had taken the job of planning my wedding – or should I even call it that? – so it was being organized at that moment without my consent. No matter what, though, I made sure that the lavender bridesmaids' dresses remained on the list... Mother detested the color, and so I had chosen it.

I had nothing to think about, said my nonfunctional brain as I laid, sprawled, on the bed. _Except for Jack... _I thought. _Oh, God, except for Jack!_ How I had hurt him! Murder, almost. My words had been the knife in his back. "I love Cal," I had told him. "He's courting me now." The words may have been different, but I no longer remembered. My memory was dedicated only to the good times Jack and I had together.

There was swimming in the lake. Catching lightning bugs in the evening. Cleaning the horses, but getting wet ourselves instead. Teaching each other how to dance properly and improperly, yet I had not known the romance and connection during those lessons. The way I had ruffled Jack's hair, causing it to become a tangled, messy bird's nest on his head, and how he had done the same to me.

This was all my mind thought of anymore. All of it was over. It was becoming more tempting to jump out the window than move on. At least the pain wouldn't be as bad as the one in my heart. My new life into womanhood with a forceful, conceited husband was the path fate had laid out for me. If I stayed, I would probably go insane and kill myself either way. Or practically just die from heartache and boredom. High society life was boredom itself. Hadn't I had enough of it all?

Whenever I was able to get out of the house, it was only for a few minutes. I'd run as fast as my legs could go to the beach, where I'd brush Claris and wait for inspiration to strike as I watched the sun slowly set. If I was too upset by thoughts I Jack, I would stare out at the ocean longingly, wondering how quick it would take for the ocean to make me nothing. Then my few minutes would be up, and I'd have to force myself rush home.

Life was the same old routines for me. Get up early and dress into a corset and something that just yelled _rich_, and then attend endless parties while dining with supposed "friends." In the end, I would be trying not to slouch as I tried to quench my irritating boredom during dinner. I would be attempting to do an origami swan with my napkin and get caught, though I tried to hide it all under the table. I would then get a good scolding before bed and wake up earlier than usual the next day and visit Jack, who would help me overcome my worries and complaints. I would go home that day feeling all light inside, as though I could conquer anything.

Those days were over. Now I was always being poked and prodded at with questions and compliments about being Caledon Hockley's new fiancé. The steel tycoon's son, they would add. And then they'd continue on with their pathetic chatter and leave me alone for the rest of the meal.

Cal wasn't even there. He was too busy working in his office, ignoring my existence.

It was all so frustrating, all of it! I wanted to lock myself in my room for the rest of my life until I died and shriveled away, until I was nothing anymore, just some dust on the silk and satin covers of my bed. Who would care if they lost one very wanted debutante?

I cried myself to sleep, only catching the date on my calendar, April 5th of 1912, before falling into a deep, painful slumber.

My heart throbbed the whole time, as it did every night.

...

"_What would you say if I asked you to marry me, Rose?" His words were so soft as he held out the most simplest, prettiest ring I've ever laid eyes on._

"_Oh!" I exclaimed, staring down at the tiny pearl. I smiled at him lovingly, his own handsome smile beaming. "You're always too sweet to me, Jack."_

_We then kissed, our lips consuming all of our troubles as it became more passionate, more deep. I let him slide it on my ring finger and wrapped my arms around his neck, never wanting it to end –_

"Rose, darling, I have some exciting news!"

My curtains were thrown open and my heart pounded, surprised, when my mother barged into my room and beckoned me to get up and dressed. She was smiling the whole time, tears of excited joy in her eyes, and she tied my corset perfectly: not too tight, nor too loose. She then led me down the stairs, where Cal was waiting at the entrance.

"Good morning, sweet pea," he said, smiling from ear-to-ear at me, while taking my hand and kissing it. "I hope you slept well."

"I did, thank you," I replied, trying to be as vague as possible. I blushed when I thought of the dream, so intimate and familiar. It's the same dream I've been having for the past month. "So, Mother, what's this exciting news you have for me?"

Ruth DeWitt could barely speak. She was talking too fast whenever she opened her mouth, and messing up her words, and eventually Cal took over for her. "My dear Rose," he began, and I rolled my eyes at his many nicknames for me, "our wedding is coming up shortly... In a month, I presume. As of today, April sixth, I have bought tickets for us to sail to New York on the tenth so we can have our wedding in our home state."

My heart plummeted. Leave England, and all my friends behind? Most importantly, I would break Jack's heart to the point of no repair if I left without his notice. Disregarding me or not, he was still out there, in love with me. Blinking unresponsively at him, I opened my mouth but only made incoherent noises.

"I know it's all so sudden, darling," Cal said with his sympathetic voice dripping with carelessness. "It's just… We all thought it'd be best for you if you returned home."

Gulping the lump in my throat, I licked my dry lips and said, "This is home for me, Cal. Southampton. I thought we were getting married in London!" I was terribly upset. I hoped my exclamations would help him realize that without me saying it straight out.

Cal laughed a little, not even a look of concern on his face. "Rose, Rose, Rose... This isn't just any ship we'll be sailing on. It's the _Titanic__!_"

I was stunned. How could Cal get tickets so soon before the ship's crossing? And on one so new and luxurious, it's setting sail on its maiden voyage in three days' time? "H-how did you get the tickets?" I lamely asked instead, though my curiosity was much more overwhelming than the urge to exclaim about the ship's grandeur.

Cal smirked and kept silent for the dramatic effect (which never worked on me). "Well, J.P. Morgan, as you well know, canceled his trip! Shocking, I may say, on a ship on so much luxury. Anyway, we're good friends, so he offered me the tickets needed to access one of the two millionaire's suites on board, and here we are, preparing to travel in three days' time on a ship of exquisite proportions."

The millionaire's suite? It was all too much. Asking for some air, I yanked open the front door and ran.

...

My feet took me to the beach, where I curled up into a ball on the sand and cried out all my tears. Everything was being put on my shoulders too suddenly: the engagement, the ship's crossing, Jack's heart-breaking disappearance. Why was I never able to see him when I needed him the most?

Getting up on shaky legs, I knew what I had to do.

...

I knocked on the door politely, yet forcefully. My heart thumping, I thought anyone passing by me in the hallway would hear its frantic beat. I blinked and took deep breaths, trying to calm the tears building up in my eyes, which wanted to spill all over my stained cheeks. The door clicked open, and my eyebrows rose in surprise that he would even open the door on me after overlooking me the past few months.

I wanted to scream, cry, and laugh all at the same time. I wanted to tell him how miserable I was, ask him why he's been ignoring me, and also put my lips upon his.

Blinking and looking away from his piercing blue gaze, I opened my dry lips and said, "I just wanted to say, Jack, that I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I'm marrying Cal and I'm sorry that I am leaving for New York in three day, on the _Titanic_." I took a tiny step back, as to not provoke myself from falling into his free arms and sobbing to my heart's content. I then dared myself to look into his eyes, my blue-green irises pleading and hoping that he got the message I was trying to send indirectly.

He didn't answer. I saw the shock in those handsome blue pools of his, and his throat unable to make words. I decided to end the pain both of us were suffering with and break the bond that held us together.

"Goodbye, Jack."

Walking away from him at that moment was the hardest thing I ever did. But as painful as it was, I hoped it would make my heart feel a little better.

Instead I felt it drop and shatter, and I knew that out of all the mistakes I've made in my short seventeen years, saying goodbye to Jack broke my heart into a hundred pieces, unable to be repaired.


	8. Finding a Way

**Fun Fact #8: The Largest Moving Object**

**The **_**Titanic **_**weighed 46,328 tons, had a length of 882.5 feet, a width of 92 feet, and a height of 175 feet from the keel to the funnels. She was equipped with 29 boilers that reached over fifteen feet high, two reciprocating engines, and a turbine engine, letting her reach a speed of, at the maximum, 23 knots. (She was going 21 knots when she hit the iceberg.) She also had two triple-bladed propellers that were over 23 feet long and one quadruple blade between them that was about 16 feet long. Out of her four funnels, only three were fully functional. (The other was used for ventilation.) With her nine decks, she held a total of 840 cabins for passengers and could carry 3,547 passengers and crew. However, she only had about 2,200; the twenty lifeboats only had room for about 1,178 of them.**

**Chapter 7**

**Finding a Way**

_She then found herself back in the room with the vanity. Everything was back in place, including the pieces of her dress. She let out another strangled sob before going along with her mother to prepare for her big day._

I couldn't believe my eyes. There she was, red curls and long-lashed, green-blue eyes, right in front of me. I had so many things to tell her, including giving back her earring, yet I was speechless.

I wrote a letter to her every day since she denied me. Now, six months later, I was heartbroken to see that _now_ she finally decided to talk to me. Why didn't she try contacting me _weeks _ago? I tried to do the same, but she never replied.

"... I'm sorry that I'm marrying Cal and I'm sorry that I am leaving for New York in three days, on the _Titanic_."

She finally dared to look up at me. I blinked; my throat was dry all of a sudden, and I still couldn't make words come out of my mouth. When I didn't answer, I saw a wounded glimmer flash through her eyes, and she bit her pink lip and said, "Goodbye, Jack."

Stunned, I stood there and watched her walk away from me. I probably would never see her again. Realizing what I'd done, I swore under my breath, slammed the door, and started to fume across the room. _Stupid, stupid!_ I thought. _You had a chance, and you let her go! She won't survive one week with that fool._

I found myself at my desk, a drawing on top of my sketchpad. Since she denied me the day I confessed, I couldn't draw anything but _her_. In my realistic sketch, she was sitting on the grass, her hand on a tree trunk. In each picture I had drawn, she never looked me in the eyes. Furious at myself, I picked up the delicate piece of paper with my calloused fingertips and tore it to shreds.

"God, Jack, I never knew you could be so jealous," I said through gritted teeth. Jealous. Yes, that's a nice way to put it. I wanted to beat this Caledon Hockley into a slimy pulp, and take Rose away. But it wasn't jealous that infested my heart at the moment. It was as though I was scared, frightened that he would hurt her in some way. I cared about her to the point that I will never love another woman, even if I had to.

Rose. She was leaving in a few days, on the tenth, to be exact. And to think she was leaving to marry _him_, in _America_, on the _Titanic__!_

"She can't be serious." Picking up a deck of cards, a pile of newspaper, and a pack of cigarettes, I stuffed them in my pockets and walked out of the apartment building.

_There's got to be a way._

...

"Fabri!" I yelled while frantically knocking on his apartment door. On my way over, worry started to grip me. Who knew how long it would take for Hockley to burn out that fire I loved about her so much? It was ferocious and scary, yet wonderful. I knew that if she could survive six months with Caledon Hockley, then she can last a few more. What made me terrified, though, was what he would do to her and her snappy lashes.

I could remember clearly the few fights Rose and I had. And wow, she was a monster. A beautiful monster at that, like a siren or something, but her words could sting. I could handle the cracks of her whip… But Caledon Hockley? He was ten times worse than society itself. In fact, he was his own type of society, with all that money of his. He could break her into a million pieces.

"What is it, Jack?" my Italian friend, Fabrizio, questioned when he opened the door. He looked slightly annoyed at my loud disturbance.

"Sorry, Fabri, it's just..." I sighed, thinking of my Rose broken and miserable. "Can I come in?"

"Sure." He patted my back as I walked in, a pained expression on my face.

"She's leaving to America, Fabri, to marry some money-craving animal who will only think of her as his trophy wife!" I explained, heart throbbing as it had been doing every day since she turned her back on me.

I remembered the countless times I watched her work fervishly in the workshop, the wrap falling down and showing her bare shoulders. I was young then, but she was always so beautiful. Her hair fell down her back gracefully, and I recounted her frustrated hand pushing it away from her face as she worked.

"Who?" Realization hit him, and his face paled a little bit. "You don't mean Rose?" I showed him the papers from the past months. He knew how to speak English, but he was illiterate, so I read him the headlines.

Fabri knew everything about us, including my feelings. Since I was too shy to ever talk to her about them, I spilled them out to him. He always listened and gave me good advice, but now the problems were so much worse. "Yes!" I said, the word strangling my throat. "On the _Titanic_, in three days! God, how can I ever afford to even get a third-class ticket on that ship?"

Fabrizio sighed and thought for a minute. "A third-class ticket is only three or four pounds, I heard. Don't you have enough?"

I shook my head. "Sadly, I don't. All the money I save up in pounds for a month goes for rent, and all I have leftover is five American dollars for food. Sometimes even that isn't enough. They don't take American money, usually." I sighed and took a glass of beer Fabri left on the table, chugging it down. "Life is so stressful sometimes."

Fabri was silent, knowing when I needed to think. Closing my eyes, I thought of her eyes, her lips, her hair...and how weak her laugh made me, especially when I was the one who caused that beautiful sound to come out of her mouth. "I can't let her go, Fabri. She's going to die if she doesn't break free. Not now, but… She's stronger than she looks, yet you don't know what he's like." I took another large sip of beer. I clenched my teeth at what I was about to say. "I've seen him walking around town. I heard him talking to his assistant, saying how he'll 'be the first.' He wants her for his own reasons, Fabri. I don't think she knows his intentions." I could think of many things to call Caledon Hockley, but after hearing that I was disgusted.

Fabrizio nodded his head and spoke in his thick Italian accent, "Jack, if you cared about her so much, then you'd go after her." He went over to a broken cabinet and took out a jar, reached his hand in and pulling out five pounds.

My eyes widened when he placed the money in front of me. Disbelief shivered across my spine. I thought of being with Rose in America, winning her back and – "Really, Fabri, you don't…"

"Think of it as gift," he said. "I know how much you care for your _Bella Rosa_." I laughed and rolled my eyes as he enunciated the last two words. That became her nickname between us when he first met her a couple of years ago; I still made jokes that his eyes practically popped out of his head and that he stuttered like a maniac.

Knowing there was no way out of this, I took the money and safely stashed them in an inside pocket on my jacket. "Thank you, Fabri. You're the best."

Fabrizio laughed. "Of course I am!" he joked. "Bringing two people closer-"

I tackled him before he could finish. "That's enough, Fabri, I get it." I ruffled his hair.

"Okay, okay, I'm done talking, see?" he said.

I laughed, my heart warming up. "Now how about we go celebrate?"

...

We walked into Anton's bar expecting the usual: We'd order two tall glasses of beer, find a couple of gullible lads who wouldn't mind testing their luck against a game of poker, and play a game of chance. Today, Fabri and I took a seat with two Swedish men.

Stomach burning with cheap beer, I said, "How about we play a nice game of Test Your Luck?"

We took out the cards, shuffled the deck, and started to gamble. I put in a couple dollars of my own money, and Fabri put a pound or two in. The men, named Olaf and Sven, were drunken and foolish, hungry for the money we put on the table. They put two tickets on the increasing pile. What they were for made my eyes widen.

Two third-class tickets on the _Titanic__!_ Not taking my eyes off them, Rose's gorgeous face appeared in my mind as I took out the five pounds Fabrizio gave me earlier and put it on the table. Hurt, Fabri said, "Jack, why do you bet all our money?"

I dropped the cigarette I was smoking on the floor and crushed it with me foot. _Doesn't look like I need this addicting stuff to make me feel better anymore!_ I thought. Rose always told him it was unhealthy, saying that she knew what it did to your lungs. "I nearly choked on it," she said, recalling her first time bumming a smoke. Leaning toward Fabri, I whispered, "Look at those tickets, Fabri. Two tickets to America, and better yet, on the _Titanic_."

Fabrizio's eyes widened. Surprised, he said, "But what if you don't win?"

Sighing, I said, "We have to. If God doesn't want us together, this would be the moment of truth."

And we played. My heart was thumping the whole time, my mind concentrating on the cards in my hand. It began to pump harder and faster when my brain finally processed that the game was over, and I had a full house.

Biting my tongue to prevent myself from crying out a whoop, I tried to keep a serious expression to hide my smile. _I'm coming for you, Rose. I'll take you away; you don't have to love me back. I just want you to be happy, to see that bright smile on your face... _

Adrenaline rushing, I took a deep breath to collect myself. "All right, moment of truth."

We all laid our cards on the table.

...

Meanwhile, Rose was fuming. Why _didn't he just grab me in his arms, kiss me, and get it over with? _she thought. Why _didn't he take me away from this nonsensical world...? Oh, I remember what it felt like to be in his arms..._

She bit her lower lip to hold back her tears. _Oh, God, I've been so stupid... _Picking up a teacup with a shaky hand, she continued to smile and pretend to listen to what Cal was saying, even though her thoughts were full of wondering regrets. The diamond on her finger felt like a giant weight pulling her down.

She remembered what life was like when her father was alive. When her mother wasn't home, she'd invite Jack over and they'd go off and talk in the barn, just in case Ruth came back early. Both of them came out with straw in their hair, laughing. Then she'd go inside and wash up, putting a wrap around her shoulders and running into the workshop, where she'd work on something as her wet hair naturally curled around her shoulders.

Later on, when her mother returned and was ready to scold, she would go back inside and change into something appropriate for the afternoon. She'd then pick up a book and read in her father's study as he did his work, sighing and mumbling about bills. It was before he became sick, and his complaints weren't only about money.

"My chest…," he grumbled as he rubbed his hand where it hurt.

Rose looked up from her book, worried. "Papa, this has been going on too long. You really should see a doctor about this!"

Her father smiled, picking up a wooden rabbit off a pile of books. "Can you put these away, my little rose petal?"

She sighed, frustrated at his lack of concern. Picking up the books, she went over to the book shelf and started shelving them in alphabetical order by author. After putting some political novel where it belonged, she looked down and her eyes began to sparkle.

The golden sphinx was staring back at her, the old copy from fifteen years ago bringing back memories. Sighing, she put it on the shelf and continued, trying to ignore her father's coughs.

Now Rose wished that she could go back in time and get help for her father sooner. If she had, maybe the lung disease that infested his upper body wouldn't have killed him a couple months later.

She was tired of being alone. Taking a sip of her tea, she prevented any unshed tears for her father from spilling.

_Please find a way, Jack… Please find a way..._


	9. A Reunion of Some Sort

**Fun Fact #9: A Thousand Woodcarvers**

**Over 15,000 men at Harland and Wolff helped build the Titanic. Known for its luxury and strength, it was the first ship to be fitted with a heated swimming pool. There were two staircases, called the Grand Staircase (forward) and Aft Grand Staircase (aft), that were meant to be used by the first-class passengers. The Grand Staircase on A deck held an elegantly carved angel holding what looks to be a torch and a clock depicting Honor and Glory crowning Time sits at the top of the stairs leading to the boat deck, which was mostly reserved for the crew. Also for first-class use, there was a gymnasium with (ironically) a rowing machine, a Turkish steam bath, a squash court, a reading and writing room, and two cafés (Parisian, Verandah and Palm Court) where you can order an **_**à la carte**_** meal. Each class of passengers had their own open deck: the A deck promenade for first, the poop deck for third, and a smaller private promenade for the second, located behind the Verandah Café. Three elevators were used by the first class, and one for the second, but these were shut down during the sinking.**

_**Part II: The Ship of Dreams**_

**Chapter 8**

**A Reunion of Some Sort**

_Her face was covered in tears as her gown, no longer torn to shreds, was fitted around her waist. She held the mocking bouquet of flowers. The last thing she wanted was to walk down that aisle and say vows she will never follow... _

Today was the moment of truth. Either I run away to Jack now, or never see him again. I didn't have a choice, anyway; I wish I did. Cal and Mother dragged me off and into the auto so quickly, my mind was still trying to process everything, since it was so early in the morning. By the time Jack came into my mind, not that he ever left it, it was too late.

It would be an impossibility to forget about my best friend. I still kept the long silver chain with the key around my neck, hidden from sight. I had to leave all my memorable possessions back home. We were getting married in Philadelphia and not planning on staying there: Cal has arranged for a honeymoon on the beaches in the south.

Sometimes, if I thought about it really hard, I wanted to scream. How could I have allowed myself to get tied up like this? High society was the puppeteer, and I was their puppet. I guess the only person with the shiny pair of scissors to free me from my bonds was Jack… But I don't know if I could speak to him ever again.

Since the engagement, I wrote letters to him. Close to every day, but mostly a couple a week. I recalled our memories – rabbits, ribbons, birthdays, water lilies – and apologized for my mistake at least a hundred times. Page after page, I wrote. It was as though he was right next to me, the person I hadn't seen in days, weeks, months; a new record for us, and something I wish to break.

He never wrote back. Not once did I get a letter in the mail from him. I would run out to that mailbox every morning, my heart beating a little faster because I knew it was_ him_, never Cal, to only be stuffed back in my suffocating box, the air squeezed out of my lungs. He was the only person in my life who made me want to keep breathing, keep living. He was the only thing keeping me from withering away into a priceless trophy wife, and the saddest part was he was in my grasp – just a few blocks from my home.

I couldn't look into Cal's eyes for more than a second. My life with him would only end in disaster and harm that I thought I would never have to fall victim to. I tried to swallow the lump in my throat as we drove farther from my home, farther from Jack Dawson. It wasn't until we were already parking in Southampton harbor, crowded to the seams with people, that I realized it was too late. I had lost my chance.

I wiped away all emotion from my face as I peered out the window. If someone was pushed over the rail and into the water, next to the titanic ship, I wouldn't be surprised.

_Titanic_. She was huge! As I was helped out of the auto by the driver, my heart wilting from thoughts of never seeing Jack again, I was stunned by its grandeur. It was the largest ship I'd ever seen, but would never be the ship of dreams to me... After all, wouldn't it be carrying me to America to marry the arrogant Caledon Hockley? Despite our bitter conversation those few months ago, that was the only thing separating me and Jack. How could I deal with a whole ocean keeping us apart?

I bit my lip, thinking I was going to cry. Telling myself I was strong, I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and then opened them again. Turning to Cal, my eyes focusing on his jutting chin, I said, "I don't get what the fuss is all about. It's no bigger than the _Mauritania_."

Cal, his smile gleaming white, said, "You can be _passé _about some things, Rose, but not about _Titanic_. She's larger than the _Mauritania_, and far more luxurious."

_Well, that didn't go as expected,_ I told myself, turning back around with no expression on my face. Taking Cal's arm, we started towards the ship, towering over us, the largest moving object in the world.

The whole time, I was afraid. Afraid for myself, for Jack, and for the future. And still that one burning question kept darting in front of my eyes as my whole life from now on passed in front of it:

How could I have let things go this far?

...

Meanwhile, Jack was getting ready to board. Taking in a deep breath, he whistled. The ship was _huge_, the largest he'd ever seen, and he was going to be on such a luxury, with Rose somewhere on board...

"This is it, Fabri," he declared as they went up the gangway after their inspection. (Though Jack refused it, claiming they were both Americans and didn't have any lice anyway.) "In a few days' time, we'll be in the free land: America!" He sighed. "I'm going back home!"

Fabrizio had never been so happy and exhilarated in his nineteen years. "I'm going to America!" he said, giving his ticket a kiss.

Jack smiled happily for his Italian friend, who had stayed in the borders of Europe for all his life. Even through the excitement of it all, Jack could've cared less about everything at that moment. Though he had found the perfect apartment on the perfect street, and only lived in it for a few weeks, his thoughts were focused on moving forward, not looking back. He was on this voyage specifically to talk Rose out of this nonsense, and go back home in the process.

As they made their way into the ship and to their cabin, Jack's attention was completely captivated by Rose. He hoped he would be able to find her, and soon...

Before that fire he loved about her burned out.

...

At least I had my paintings with me to remind me of home. Everything else, as I've mentioned before, such as most of my clothes and jewelry, bedroom furniture, and vanity drawer full of my memories with Jack, were left back in Southampton. The cold key pressed against my skin, reminding me of my life before. The whole DeWitt Bukater mansion was waiting for our return, only to be abandoned again after the wedding and honeymoon...which I wasn't looking forward to at all.

The _Titanic_, though not out of port yet, rocked on the waves so smoothly, I could've believed that I was in a hotel, not a ship. Despite its calmness, I still felt like vomiting; everything was forced on me so quickly, the engagement and sailing impacting me the most. I felt as though this ship was taking me to America to be Cal's slave, not his loving bride-to-be.

Wishing Jack was here (for he _was_ on my mind every second), I placed the Picasso painting near the chaise lounge and the Monet near the fireplace. The suite was extravagant, with three main rooms: a sitting room and two bedrooms. Of course, there was a bathroom to top it off, and our own private promenade deck – something I found totally Cal's style of living.

The room was a corset to me: It felt so tight, so small of a space, even with its large area to breath. _He_ began to flash before my eyes – as a boy, a young man, and an adult. Was he still too youthful to experience such heartbreak? Breathing deeply, I wanted to cry again, and did so quietly into my handkerchief before being interrupted by Trudy.

"Miss, Mr. Hockley and Mrs. DeWitt Bukater would like you to get ready for luncheon."

"O-oh," I choked out. Sniffling, I dabbed at my eyes and let Trudy help me up from the chair I had plopped down in. "Yes, thank you."

On our way to one of the bedrooms, I asked, "And who will we be dining with today, Trudy?"

Trudy started helping me out of my purple and white striped dress, letting my hair down and run wild so she could rearrange it into something new and fresh. "With Mr. Ismay and Mr. Andrews. They both contributed with the ship's construction. Oh, and tomorrow you'll have lunch with a nice woman named Margaret Brown, who would love to make your acquaintance."

Helping me into a crisp light green dress draped in lace and abundant with layers, Trudy fumbled for something in the pocket of her dress, and I turned around as she handed me something. "Your correspondence, Miss Rose." I took the note from her hand and shifted back around, letting her pull at my hair as much and as hard as she wanted.

_Mrs. DeWitt Bukater, _

_I've heard so much about you and your darling daughter Rose. It would be an honor if you'd accept my invitation for luncheon tomorrow, April 11th of 1912. I'll be boarding from Cherbourg tonight._

_Your correspondence,_

_Margaret Brown_

_Here's something new,_ I thought as Trudy put one last struggling pin into my hair. It was something to keep my mind off of Jack. I gave the invitation back to her on the way out, and keeping him out of mind proved a futile effort:

Oh, how much I would laugh at all these things if Jack were beside me.

...

We were in the Verandah and Palm Court Café, Cal and my mother and I. We were greeted by Mr. Ismay, who had a large mustache in comparison to his face, and Mr. Andrews, whose face lines showed great care and kindness, along with fascination for this ship. When we shook hands, I felt like I was at Jack's party with Rob staring at me all over again, for even someone as old as Mr. Andrews had fallen into my spell.

I was uncomfortable, I'll admit, but when Cal helped me into my chair, as most gentleman do (though I rarely thought of Cal as a gentleman, and more as a self-absorbed man), I wanted to hurl. Everything about him repulsed me, making even Mr. Ismay, a stranger to me, look like my best friend.

Talking to pass the time as we waited to be taken our order, I got lost into my own little dream world, ignoring the mindless chatter, avoiding Cal's political spiel, thinking only of Jack...

And that's when it all came rushing back, knocking me square in the eyes.

...

_On my sixteenth birthday party, I had been welcomed into society even more graciously than ever before. I was finally turning into a debutante, and I had gotten a light peach dress fitted for my figure for the occasion. The warm, bright color represented my coming of age, and as the party was planned around me, I felt trapped._

_During the planning, I slipped away to the beach, where I would sit in the sand and wait for whenever Jack came. And what he always did was slip his arm around my shoulder, pull me close, and tell me how everything will be all right. _

_The night of the party, I ran away again in an attempt to escape the social silliness taking place around me. It was late at night, almost nine, and the moon was reflecting off the dark ocean as I appeared behind the flourishing bramble and bush, sobbing into my sleeve._

_However, someone else was there. A man, sitting on the cool sand, the cold wind blowing the hair from his face; yet it was so dark, I couldn't recognize who he was. Figuring I wasn't alone, I realized I had been crying like a mania and that the man on the shore had probably heard me. "Oh, I'm sorry, sir," I said. "I didn't mean to interrupt__-__-"_

_"Rose?" a familiar voice said. He didn't move his head in my direction; it was too dark to even try to make a person out in the lack of light. _

_"Jack?" I questioned back, walking towards the shadowy figure and making sure I wasn't going to fall by putting my hands out in front of me. "What are you doing here?"_

_I sat down next to him and he took me in his arms. "God, you're cold. What are you doing out here? Why aren't you at the party?"_

_I sighed and closed my eyes, leaning my head on his shoulder. "I couldn't do it, Jack. I just couldn't. It was a complete bore without you there." I took his arm and wrapped it around my waist, making him pull me closer. I was shivering profusely, the frigid night air barely catching my attention on the walk here. _

_Feeling me chatter, he took off his coat and put it on my shoulders. "But you're freezing, Rose! Come on, let's get you home." He started to get up._

_"No!" I said a little too quickly. Blushing, I put the arm I had jerked out to stop him back down. "No. Let's just stay here for a bit, okay?"_

_He knew that fighting with me was useless, so he sat back down. Even with the coat wrapped firmly around my shoulders, I still trembled. I laid my head down in his lap and felt his warm arms hesitantly protect me again. Exhaling deeply, I closed my eyes and let him stroke my hair. _

_"You should see your hair in the moonlight, Rose. It really lights up," Jack commented softly. I smiled but kept my eyes closed._

_A few minutes passed, and we just sat there. Eventually, I couldn't take the silence anymore. "Jack, can you honestly answer something for me?"_

_I could feel his blood pound faster in his body as he responded, "You can trust me."_

_"Do you think I'm__-__-"_

_The words didn't make it out of my mouth when an admirer of mine stepped out of the bushes, yelling, "Rose...? Rose! Oh!"_

_He had caught me in Jack's embrace, and heaven knows what he was thinking, anger brewing in his expression. "Rose, what are you doing?" Eying Jack, his eyebrows rose. "And what are you doing with your old stable boy?"_

_I got up too quickly, the coat falling off my shoulders and into the sand. Jack picked it up, spraying more sand in my dress. "Oh, Charles, it's...nothing. We're just friends."_

_"Oh," he said, clearly not buying it. He gave me his hand. "Come on, then. Let me take you back to the party."_

_I had taken his hands and let him pull me away, heading back to my world. But I felt Jack's comforting hand on my back as a way of reassurance. "Thank you, my good man, for watching after my lady," Charles told Jack, brushing the sand off my hair and shoulders, me working the bits of sediment out of the layers of my dress. He sighed and put his hands on my shoulders, looking me in the eyes and asking, "Are you ready to go?"_

_I smiled slightly at him and nodded. "Yes, thank you." Putting an arm around my shoulder, we began to head back. "You must be freezing!" he said, rubbing my arms. "Let's get you back inside now, shall we?"_

_I only looked back once, and I was glad I couldn't see the hurt reflected in Jack's eyes. He was still sitting in the sand, coat in hand, staring at our retreating backs, never letting his eyes leave mine for a second._

_Charles had looked back once, too. And he didn't like what he saw. _

_Later that night, Mother came into my room. She scolded me for my wandering off, and how I should feel thankful that Charles had not detached himself from my life completely. _

_"We're women," she said, taking my firmly by the shoulders as I cried pathetically. "Our choices are never easy."_

_That made me shut up. The next day, a letter came in from Charles, explaining that he had some business to attend to in some foreign country and that he had to break our courtship._

_Since that day, I prayed I would never see the hatred in my mother's eyes as I did at that moment._

...

That haunting memory was what made Jack realize that Rose could never be his. She'd always be courted, admired, and receive many proposals for marriage as time went on. It's what made him realize that he would die alone before he got the chance to tell her the truth. After all, to him she was only getting lovelier.

He had been thinking of Rose since the moment he stepped foot on this sturdy ship. They had set sail an hour or two ago, and the waters were as smooth as butter. No choppy waves plus a non-rocking ship made for a good voyage; it gave Jack hope.

Propped up on the poop deck, he was currently attempting to draw a young girl and her father at the railing, but the girl's face always ended up looking like Rose's when she was that age. Giving up entirely, he put his face in his hands and took deep breathes.

"Is something wrong, _mio amico_?" Fabrizio asked, clapping a hand on Jack's back.

"You are looking a little green there, boyo," an Irishman named Tommy Ryan intervened, a friend they met on board.

Jack only shook his head in his calloused hands.

Fabrizio shrugged his shoulders. "So he's lovesick. Here on this ship to find some girl he's known for ten years. Got herself in a bad marriage with some rich man, and Jack's trying to get her out."

Tommy eyed Jack and blew out smoke from his cigarette. There was something about Jack's posture that looked crushed. "She third-class here, like us?"

Fabri shook his head. "No. She's up there." And he pointed to the sky, a gesture meaning she boarded as first-class. "A goddess. Always has been."

Tommy nodded his head, making the connection on Jack's secret love affair and the important issue at hand. "Ah," he mumbled, nodding his head and blowing out a trail of smoke, his thoughts wandering from Jack's love life to his home back in Ireland. He boarded at Southampton to get away faster, so he wouldn't feel so homesick boarding from Queenstown. He had a girl back home... He couldn't picture what it would be like if she was not in his league.

"Good luck, Jack," he said and patted him on the back. He then continued to look out at the ocean waves lapping at each other, picturing what this rich woman must look like while listening to Fabrizio voice Jack's worries.

...

I rolled my eyes as luncheon progressed. Cal had ordered for me and I had given him a very fake smile in return. Now here I was: picking at my lamb with very little mint sauce, my stomach grumbling for I was not hungry for food.

I was craving Jack. I wanted to see him again, hear his fluid, witty words, and his handsome voice. See his bright blue eyes pierce into mine, almost like rupturing my soul, heart fluttering in my chest; see his hands work determinedly across a sheet of paper, those lines that looked like nothing turn into something amazing.

I never went this long without talking to him. "Excuse me," I said, standing up from the table and walking away. A multiple of times Mr. Andrews had asked me if I was all right, glancing at me from time to time with concern, but I had answered his repetitive question with a simple response, such as "I'm fine."

However, I was not. The room looked like it was spinning, and I could feel my eyes drooping. My back was straight as an iron rod with my whale bone corset tightened against my ribs, and it was as though I couldn't breathe. I was restricted from doing everything, I thought. So that's why I had walked away and towards the deck, needing some fresh air.

The ocean breeze had always calmed me. It was even fresher than the scent on the beach, for that scent had lingered for a while across the waves before reaching the shore. Now the air was coming directly from the salty waters to my heaving lungs, taking in very big, deep breaths to pacify my heaving stomach.

But if you saw me, all you would see is a nicely dressed young woman, her lips pursed and straight, and her eyes unreadable.

I reached the railing and looked out at the sun directly in the soft clouds. The light reflected off the ocean, leaving a trail of beautiful colors mingled with blue hues. I squinted into it and sighed deeply, putting my elbow on the rail and my chin in my palm. The whole of steerage was bustling right in front of me, a deck below. Taking my hat off, I threw it into the sea, watching it bob in the current until I could see it no more.

It was so dreadfully beautiful. If the ocean were a woman, she'd make all women envious and every man drop dead in her path. A flyaway curl caught loose in the wind, and I watched it bob on my forehead, reflecting orange from the yellow sunlight.

A weird tingling sensation passed through me. Looking down, I caught his gaze.

...

Jack had only looked up once, not even knowing where to look or where the sudden urge came from. His action was so abrupt, it alarmed Fabri and Tommy, who sent him curious glances. His blue eyes darting everywhere, he finally saw her.

She was looking out at the ocean, away from him. She had thrown her hat into the sea, and now she was staring longingly back at the beautiful hues the afternoon sun made with the ocean.

Sweat beaded at his forehead and he suddenly felt dizzy. He gulped, his eyes not able to leave her for a second. He hadn't seen her in what felt like so long, and her last words to him echoed in the back of his head.

_Goodbye, Jack..._

Fabri glanced at where he was looking, and slapped a hand on his forehead, muttering something in Italian. Tommy followed his gaze and took a look at the beauty at the rail. He whistled and shook his head. "Forget it, boyo."

But he still stared, for at that moment she had caught his eyes, and all time had stopped.

...

My heart began to beat so fast, I thought it would stop. Everything around me no longer existed; Jack was the only thing I saw. The breath stopped in my throat, and for sure I was going to be sick.

But I was strong and I fought the nausea that had overcome me. Biting my bottom lip and breaking the gaze, everything came back. The marriage, Mother poor on the street, my father looking down at me like a disgrace... Shaking my head, I looked back into his piercing stare, pleading him with my eyes to leave me alone, though I had begged for him for what felt like years. Then I turned on my heels and left.

There were all those memories again, of my father and his creative riddles, Jack and our time together. I couldn't comprehend anything anymore.

Jack was left stunned. He thought for sure that she was going to come down and talk to him. Instead she had shaken her head, stared back with eyes of remorse, and left.

He felt his heart crack a little. She had seen him, and now she was gone. She hadn't been thinking of running back to him and fulfilling the life she wanted. No, she was still worried about her selfish mother who, in the end, wouldn't give a heart for Rose after she's married her off.

Jack looked away from the rail; a drawing from his sketchbook got caught in the wind and blew in Tommy's direction, and he caught it before it flew away with the breeze. Eying Jack and seeing the hurt on his face, he held the drawing in front of him and saw himself staring into the eyes of the same woman who had appeared at the railing what felt like ages ago.


	10. Confessions

**Fun Fact #10: The World's Elite**

**Some of the world's richest people traveled on the **_**Titanic**_**, including John Jacob Astor IV, the richest man on the ship, and his pregnant, eighteen-year-old wife Madeleine. Others include Sir and Lady Duff Gordon, a landowner/sportsman with his designer wife who both survived the sinking; seventeen-year-old Jack Thayer, who lived to tell his tale, and his parents; William Carter and his family, who brought on board a Renault motorcar; Archibald Gracie IV, a state investor; millionaire Benjamin Guggenheim; Isidor and Ida Straus, owners of the Macy's department store; and soldier Archibald Butt.**

**Chapter 9**

**Confessions**

_And yet, she did. She walked down that aisle, said her vows, and locked herself up from the inside for the rest of her life. That is, unless..._

I was speechless. Absolutely dumbfounded! When I returned to our table, I was pale as a sheet, my lips sealed and shut tight.

Mr. Andrews looked up at me, concern reflecting off his eyes. "Are you all right, Miss Rose?"

I was only able to nod and take my seat, my green eyes staring off into nothing and seeing nothing except for Jack's face. _So he's on this ship... _

I couldn't believe he did that!

I was so shocked, in fact, my throat was parched to the point that even my third glass of watered wine was not enough to quench the strong feelings constricting my windpipe. My lip twitched, trying to retain a smile from spreading from ear to ear. Taking deep inhalations from my nose since my mouth was unable to work at the moment, I formulated a plan deep in the depths of my mind.

My brain was occupied with many, many other things, such as memories, fears, lessons learned, the present, and the future to think much of seeing Jack. Yet at that moment, everything else ceased to exist. I felt the guilt eating me up from the inside, my face flushing from how overwhelming everything was all of a sudden. My thigh twitched, missing the bottom of the table by an inch. Excusing myself again, I went back to our cabin and shut the door, locking it tight.

Changing into a simple dress, I finally unbolted my lips and took a long drink of warm water from the pitcher on the sitting room table. Tossing the rest in the sink, I wiped my wet hands on my skirt and made my way out of the first-class section of the ship, starting with the stairs.

I bolted up the steps to A deck, swerved past the banisters, and stopped in my tracks when the door that led to the A deck promenade was in my reach. The wind was knocked out of my lungs, and I inhaled and exhaled heavily. The wooden door which had no glass windows on it was the only thing separating me from a new life.

_There's no turning back__,_ I thought_. _

Putting my gloved hand on the door handle, it opened with a _click_. Taking a deep breath, I walked out into the afternoon sun and cool breeze. I walked quickly across the deck, fleeting past other passengers enjoying the crisp weather.

There it was. The staircase that led to the forecastle deck. I took the short flight down to B deck, and looked in both directions when I saw the small gate with the sign that stated third class passengers were not allowed beyond this point. I nonchalantly went down the few steps and rounded the corner, opening another door with my shaky, sweaty hands.

Gulping, I ran into absolutely no one as I cascaded the last set of stairs. I was soon down on C deck, and, peaking around, I heard loud noises, music, and people chattering in a tightly packed room. My ears perking up, my eyes searched this rambunctious space. My heeled feet landing on the flat surface, I was soon completely conscious by the people crowding the third-class general room.

Of course, the majority of the steerage would embark tomorrow when we stop at Queenstown, but there was still a decently sized group of immigrants.

I smiled and tried to avoid the stares. Many eyed me, but eventually knew better and kept their eyes to themselves – and in their sockets.

Glancing around, I didn't see Jack. _Looks like I'm going to have to go deeper into the heart than I thought. _Taking small steps forward, I made my way into the room and felt all eyes on me. Heart pounding, I grinned weakly at staring passersby, nodding slightly when it came to the more gentlemanly type.

That's when I saw him. He was showing a little girl how to draw, that adorable smile on his face. I found myself smiling and, legs shaking from adrenaline, kept my cool posture and walked faster towards Jack.

Before I got to his side, however, his friend Fabrizio tapped him on the shoulder and pointed in my direction. A young woman next to him eyed me in awe and fascination, clearly interested in why a woman of my station would be down here in these parts. Clearing my throat, Jack's eyes caught my own and my breath stuck in my throat.

Another friend of Jack's, one I did not know, elbowed him so he was standing up and breaking the long distance between us. We were lost in each other's eyes. Smiling, I took his hand between my fingertips and said, "I should say hello, but I have so many other things to say."

He laughed, that breathtaking smile on his face appearing again. "May we speak alone?" I asked him, becoming more serious, even though my insides were melting. I felt like the Wicked Witch who just got liquefied by the bucket of water. If only I was able to take my eyes off him...

He nodded and put his arm out, signaling I should take the lead. Taking a deep breath, I pushed through the crowd, me still being the center of attention, and discovered we were in an empty corridor soon after the uncomfortable, unblinking gawks.

Securely taking hold of his hand and squeezing it to comfort myself, I began my long spiel. "Jack, I-"

He put a finger to my lips. "Shh," he said, a goofy grin on his face, "don't say another word. You don't have to." Then, taking my head in his hands, he pulled me into an inevitable hug, my tears of sorrow and pain falling off my cheeks. I soon found myself clutching on to him, inapt to let go. The letters, the key around my neck, the memories... They were all forgotten now.

"Jack," I croaked in the course of time. I rubbed his back and dug my head deeper into his shirt. I exhaled acutely. "I've missed you."

Jack kissed my tear-stained cheek and whispered in my ear, "It's been unbearable not to see you, Rose."

I pulled away, not knowing how to react in this situation. Wasn't this what I wanted? I was slightly offended and embarrassed. "Jack, I'm still engaged to Cal," I stated carefully, the words rolling off of my tongue. I wanted to roll my eyes when I realized I sounded like my mother.

He rubbed my cheek delicately, and I looked away from his sorrow-filled eyes. "I know, Rose," he whispered. "I want to help you..."

"I don't need your help, Jack," I snapped, a little too harshly. I wanted this moment to be special, but the months of loneliness and heartache had left me bitter and cold. Sighing deeply, I put my head in my hands and bit my tongue. Finally, I looked him straight in the eye and said, "I care for you, Jack, but this is up to me. You can't stop me..."

It was Jack's turn to chew over my words. He took my shoulders and said, "There's something about you that's screaming to get out. It's a fire, all right? And it'll die if you don't break free. Maybe not now, but eventually that fire I love about you, Rose... That fire's going to burn out." The corner of his lip turned up in a miniscule smile. "I love everything about you, Rose, if only you could know how much I've thought about you…" He closed his eyes, unable to finish as the sting of sharp longing lodged in his brain.

I pulled Jack's hand from cheek and pushed it away. "I'm tired of your sympathy." I had no idea what was coming over me. Was I a monster? Sniffling, I confessed, "Do you know how many times_ I_ thought about _you_, Jack? And do you know how many times I have to remind myself that it's _not meant to be__?_ For years I've been doing that, Jack, and now-"

Meanwhile, Jack's eyes gazed into my very soul. He understood the deep meaning of my words, and when that comprehension was made, it set something off in his brain. Before either of us knew it, my sentence was cut off as he pulled me close and put his lips against mine.

Every muscle of mine, even my heart, seemed to tense and stop. The kiss was soft, genuine, and passionate. Soon everything melted away until it was only Jack and I. I found myself deepening the kiss, making it last. My heart was soaring like a bird flying through the breeze. All my worries and all my pain from those many months ago flew away with the dropping, swooping action of a feather.

I was the one to break the kiss. My knees were trembling and my heart was thumping so hard I thought Jack was able to feel it by how close our bodies were pressed together. Putting my head on his chest, he held me close, his hands in my wild mane of curls. "O-oh," I stuttered at a loss for words. "That was...nice."

Jack pushed me away lightly and put his forehead against mine. "You gotta admit, that was more than just _nice_."

I laughed and punched his shoulder playfully. "Oh, I know." And with that, I pulled him into another caress, and when that one eventually ended, all my confessions spilled out.

"I love you, Jack."

...

Tommy and Fabrizio sat in their seats, worried to the point that they would chew their fingernails if they weren't so dirty from Jack's charcoal pencils. They both knew how much Jack loved this girl, but did she feel the same way? It had been a few minutes only, and yet there was an uncomfortable feeling spreading between the two. To clear it up, they both attempted a hand at sketching, trying to ease up the tension by making small jokes.

Then they heard something that comforted their anxiety: laughing. Not just any laugh, but Jack's laugh…and that girl's!

They appeared at the entrance with their hands interlocked. Rose was biting her lip to prevent a smile from spreading across her face, and she was giggling while Jack was beaming. He bent down and gave her a peck on the cheek. Rose, however, thought this was a silly feat, and put her arms around his neck and kissed him full on the lips, something she found a bold action.

Fabrizio and Tommy's eyes popped out of their sockets. Helga, the Norwegian immigrant Fabrizio became fond of, started to laugh a little to herself as they gave each other eye-boggling glances. "Did you see that?" Tommy said, eying the embracing couple. "Since when did that happen?"

Fabri shrugged his shoulders and started to chuckle. "Don't act like we didn't expect it."

Helga watched as Jack broke the romantic moment and whispered something in Rose's ear, something that made her grin wider and laugh louder. She sighed, wishing she could have a shipboard romance like that. Her soft blue eyes then caught Fabrizio's passionate brown ones, and she wondered if there was any chance for them.

Jack and Rose started to walk over, and as they got closer, Helga could see the sparks between them: in their eyes, in their fingers, in their smiles. They were obviously in love, and had been for a while.

"Fabri! Tommy!" Jack exclaimed, holding Rose's hand, their fingers entwined. "This is Rose."

Rose smiled at the small group, her eyes landing on the only familiar person. "Hello, Fabrizio," she said, and then acknowledged Tommy with her eyes, uncertain what to say to him.

Instead, Tommy took his cigarette out of his lips and gave her his other hand. "Tommy Ryan," he introduced himself.

Rose shook it respectfully. "It's nice to meet another of Jack's friends."

She next met Helga, who seemed very well-spoken for being new at the English language. She took a seat next to Jack, loving the way his arm fell around her shoulders, and they all sat down and talked the rest of the afternoon away.

...

"Jack, what made you think you could accomplish something so heroic?" Jack was walking me back to my cabin, though it took some convincing to let him be allowed to the upper decks. Now I was asking him everything I wanted to, the questions I would've asked after he cut off my words with a sealed kiss.

Jack squeezed my hand. "Because," he said, kissing it, "I know you, and I also know that you would never survive in a relationship like that."

My beaming smile turned into a frown, my heart missing a beat. "Oh, Jack, you're right now. How can I have let myself be swept away by the arrogant Caledon Hockley?" I rubbed my temple, trying to soothe my sudden discomfort.

Jack bent down and kissed my forehead, sweeping me into his arms. "It's all right, Rose. Everything will be all right. We'll find a way out of this."

I blocked the tears wanting to pour out of me. Sniffling, I said, "I have to thank you, Jack. If you didn't find a way on board... Oh, God!" I began to sob into his shirt the second time that day, my mind full of frightening possibilities of what my future could've been like married to the egocentric Cal Hockley.

"Shh," Jack reassured me, holding me closer. "It's all going to be okay."

After a moment of needed silence, I pulled away and gave him a short peck on the lips. "At least I have you," I whispered softly, my eyes glazed over with tears.

...

I entered my cabin feeling lightheaded and different. Just a mere few hours ago, I had given up completely on ever seeing Jack again, thinking my life was over. Then I had found him, and we talked, and he kissed me, and I had kissed him back with just as much passion, maybe even more.

My heart was a mess. I felt my legs go weak and I collapsed on the floor, my hand still on the door knob. Letting it go, my mind began to swarm like a brain full of flies.

I left steerage feeling less guilty, but still hesitant over Jack's love. After all, I was only seventeen. This could possibly be puppy love, no matter how much I didn't want to believe it. I trusted Jack, yet there was something strange now, something between us that was never there... And I was so confused, like a hormonal teenager, and didn't know what to believe!

_The letters! _my mind screamed as a horrible realization crept its way in. _You forgot to ask him about the letters!_

I put my head on my knees and closed my eyes, trying to comfort myself. I couldn't care less about the letters I poured my heart and soul into; I loved Jack, I knew that much. But do I love him as a friend, or more than that? At that moment, I had no idea. Everything had gotten all jumbled up inside me: my heart, which was aching so much before, was so full it might as well burst; the blood in my brain was pumping so loudly, I was surprised I hadn't made the whole ship tremble; and my body, so tight and stiff before, had turned all wobbly-kneed and shaky.

Sighing, I got up on my tremulous legs and decided to retire for the night. It was late, and Mother and Cal were still at dinner, and would be there for a while longer. Crawling into bed, I closed my eyes and fell into a deep sleep.

...

_"Oh, Jack, a trip to France for a whole month! Can you believe it?" It was the day I turned fourteen, and my parents had given me a choice to tour one European country for thirty days. I was upset and excited, my mind all jumbled up. We were in my backyard, sitting in the long grass._

_Jack shook his head, his seventeen-year-old mind much more experienced than mine. "You'll be gone for a month?"_

_I nodded my head, wiping my nose, as unladylike as it was, on my sleeve. "And I don't want to go!"_

_"Why not?" he asked, making me look in his eyes by tilting my chin up with his finger. _

_I sniffed, my nose stuffy. "Because I don't know anyone there, and we've made so many plans for the next couple weeks that I__-__-"_

_"Oh, Rosie, go off and have fun! We can do those things some other time, all right?" Jack interrupted._

_I smiled through my tears. "Is that a command?"_

_He looked at me, studying my face; I flushed a little. "Fine, I want you to have fun. Now promise me you'll try to!"_

_I punched him playfully on the shoulder. "I promise I'll try to have fun, Jack."_

_He laughed and pulled me up by the elbows. "Race you to the lake!"_

_It was now my turn to chuckle. "Okay, but I always win!"_

_..._

_I groaned, looking down at the many historical buildings of Paris beneath my feet. My hotel room was large and luxurious, yet so far my trip had been a complete bore. Mother had taken me to so many cotillions held by her friends, and she had introduced me to many gentlemen whose heads were full of air. _So this was her plan all along...

I wish Jack were here! _I thought, staring at the beautiful scenery. My face was crumbled up in misery. _He would love it here.

_Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. I left my spot at the window to go answer it. "Yes?"_

_"Mademoiselle DeWitt Bukater, your correspondence," a bellhop said in a thick French accent._

_"Oui, merci," I replied, taking the note from his hands._

_"À votre service," he said, taking a sweeping bow and walking away._

I wonder who would send me something such as a letter... I mean, I don't know anyone here. _Opening the note, I found a well-known scrawl, and my eyes widened._

Look out your window,_ it said._

_"Jack?" I said to myself, my heart racing. "How could he afford to be in Paris?" Rushing to the balcony, I shoved the doors open and stepped out, looking down and all over the place._

_And there he was, in the flesh. Jack Dawson from Chippewa Falls, Wisconsin was standing outside my window. "Hey, Dawson!" I yelled, and he smiled up at me. "What are you doing down there?"_

_He laughed, and I was glad my room wasn't so high up. "Looking for you!" he exclaimed back, and a wide grin spread on my face. I snickered and promised, "I'll be right down."_

_I rushed out of my room that day feeling as light as a feather, my young and fragile heart beating for Jack Dawson._

_..._

_Now here was something I had never experienced before... I found myself running, my heels clicking on the deck as I made my way to the stern of the ship, my cheeks covered in tears and dripping makeup. I knew why my feet were moving so quickly: I was trying to get away from Cal, trying to find a way out of my trapped life__._

_I ran and ran until there was nothing else in front of me but sea. Taking a risky step over the rail, I was prepared to jump. I waited and waited for someone to come save me, but no one did._

_Giving out a strangled cry for the life I might've had, I jumped into the dark, hungry ocean, feeling the cold air against my pale face. _

_The last thing I saw before I hit the crashing waves was Jack's face, full of sorrow and grief. The freezing water slapped me, and everything went black._

_..._

I woke up panting, a cold sweat on my brow. Tears tarnished my cheeks and were still flowing out of my eyes. Pulling the sheets off of me, I frantically pulled a coat out of my closet and slipped into my shoes. I looked at the time: 9:45 PM. Cal must be in the smoking room and Mother should be in her bed by now. Buttoning the knee-length coat up, I opened the door to the cabin and slipped out, my mind scrambled and fried.

Walking fast, I let my feet drag me to wherever they wanted to go. _What in the world did that dream mean? Starting from a nice memory of Jack and I, and then getting so terrifying like that? _Pulling my source of heat closer to my body, I shivered as I remembered the dream and the feel of the cold water against my skin.

My feet led to me to cabin G-32. Wiping my eyes, I pounded on the door and yelled, "Jack!" My throat was dry, and his name came out as a croak. The voices I heard that were talking and laughing in the room went silent.

I heard someone jump off their bed and the sound of distressed feet making their way to the door. I then heard Fabrizio's anxiously waiting voice say, "Jack?"

Then the door opened, and the man of my life stood before me. "Jack," I said, putting my arms around him into a needed hug.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, pulling away. There was concern and confusion etched in his handsome features. I sighed because of the haunting dream and his dreamy visage.

I ignored his question. "May I come in?" He opened the door wider for me and I walked in, ignoring the whistle of a couple men I did not know. I took in the small size of the room.

Sniffling, I noted, "It's quaint," and took a seat on Jack's bed. I then looked up into the face of Fabrizio and smiled. "Hi, Fabri."

Jack took a seat next to me and pulled me into his arms. I leaned my head on his shoulder, closing my eyes at his warm embrace. I then explained to him the dreams I had, and that was why I was here. "I don't know what it means, Jack," I finally said, finishing my tale.

He kissed my head tenderly. "It doesn't mean anything, Rose." My eyes began to droop from the exhausting day my mind had had.

"Hm..." That was all I was able to get out before falling into a deep sleep, his arms wrapped protectively around me.


	11. Escape

**Fun Fact #11: Below Decks**

**Stuffed in tiny cabins where four or more people stayed, the steerage passengers were found on E deck to G deck. A cabin either housed a family or passengers of the same sex; women and children were put aft and single men put forward. Each cabin had at least two bunks beds, a washbasin, and a porthole depending on the location. There were only two bathtubs, one for each gender, for the 700 plus immigrants. However, bathing was thought to spread lung disease, but they were still treated well with their own open deck space at the stern of the ship, a general room, dining saloon, and smoking room. Most of steerage did not speak English, but life was a party with cheap beer. Because of their lower chances of survival during the sinking, the largest family to perish was the Sage family, which consisted of eleven people. **

**Chapter 10**

**Escape**

_There was no unless. The world was closing in on her, and she couldn't escape. Ice prickling at her skin, she felt her last breath leave her lips, and the darkness swallow her up. The last image she saw was that of the one she truly loved, and she called his name silently, just a whisper in the black abyss__..._

I awoke in an uncomfortable position in a very small bed, my mind at first not processing what was going on. Neck cracking as I settled upright, I noticed that I was not in my parlor suite. My eyes roamed the little berth, still not understanding how I got there. Then I saw Jack's sleeping face, and everything from yesterday blew me away, smothering me.

Needing some fresh air, I got up and smoothed the wrinkles in my night gown. I tiptoed out of the room, making sure I didn't slam the door on the way out so I wouldn't wake anyone.

It was a nice day to be out, though when I caught the time it was ten in the morning. My eyes widened by how late I had slept in, and I shook my head and mentally scolded myself as discipline.

I didn't want to go back to my first-class life and pretend I was the perfect daughter and soon-to-be wife just yet. I had the opportunity of roaming the ship, and so I would use that to my advantage. I went to the third-class promenade, heading aft, wanting to feel the cool breeze on my pale, fatigued cheeks. Opening the door I came through yesterday, I sighed contently at the smell of the salty ocean wind.

The cool breeze blew the curls around my shoulders, and I closed my eyes to take in the pureness of it all. Stretching, I opened them, looked around, and saw that not many people were out. Taking the steps needed to reach the railing, I stared out at the open sea, and the calmness it filled in me.

However, the pleasant sight did not last long. There was something uneasily familiar about this section of the ship, the British flag flapping in the wind. The trail of foam the tail of the ship left behind made me want to hurl, and wracking my brain I tried to conjure why this area rang a bell, yet it left me with a bout of seasickness.

Pushing it aside, I exhaled deeply and let the calming weather take over me. My mind had never so with one with the world. Smiling, I let my eyes wander around the deck, and I caught the figure of Tommy Ryan a few feet away, smoking a cigarette.

The calm only lasted a few seconds. Soon, that uncomfortable feeling started nudging me in the back of my mind again, unsettling me. I knew something was bothering me, and I had to tell someone now. My peaceful time on deck was now turned into one of confusion, for I still had no recollection what it all meant. Taking a deep breath to calm my shaky nerves, I walked over to Tommy and stood next to him.

"Good morning, Tommy," I greeted politely, sighing from pent-up exhaustion. "Can you bum a smoke?" I put out my hand, indicating my need for a cigarette.

He fumbled in his pocket while saying, "Good mornin' to you, Rose." He handed me the addictive stick and lit it for me, then we proceeded to smoking the morning away.

"There was a reason I wanted to come and talk to you." I broke the silence, letting the calming scent of the smoky cloud in my lungs soothe my jumbled, shaky concerns. I sealed my eyes shut to collect myself and make sure it all was real, the faint headache beginning to pound in my skull.

"What is that?" Tommy asked, his attention on me. I was finally able to look into his eyes and see that they were the ones of a friend, something I hadn't seen in a while. I wanted to tell him everything about my relationship with Jack and the whole engagement disaster, but I didn't want to overwhelm him.

Instead, I inhaled deeply and spluttered out, "Jack and I met ten years ago. He ran away from home when his parents died, and my father invited him in like the son he never had. We let him work at our home in Philadelphia. We even paid him. Jack and I became good friends.

"I guess the hardest thing about our relationship was the age difference. He's always been three years older than me, and he treated me like a sister." Yes, I could remember the countless times he'd put a bug in my hair, or would tease me for being a weak little girl. "We were practically inseparable. It wasn't until I turned fifteen and my father passed that I realized he was looking at me in a whole different way. But by that time, time didn't matter anymore. There were restrictions now, of the wealthy mingling with the poor. I convinced myself that Jack wasn't meant for me, and we stayed loyal and caring friends.

"A few months ago, Jack confessed something to me, and I denied him. Since then, I told myself I'd get back in touch with him, but I was forced into this unpleasing courtship with Cal Hockley." I rolled my eyes. "I was restrained from doing whatever I wanted. Whatever little time I had, I wrote to Jack, but I never got an answer." I watched as the smoke was released from my lungs. "And now that my eyes are finally open, I've noticed my mistake."

I was met with a piercing gaze from Tommy, as though he was studying me. "I don't know you too well, Rose," he mumbled around his cigarette, finally taking it out and letting it burn away in his hand. "But I think I've misjudged you."

I stared just as intimidatingly back at him, feeling like I could trust him. I eventually took my eyes away and stubbed my cigarette out. "I've been having these dreams lately," I stated slowly, trying to gather up my raging thoughts. "Strange dreams, almost psychotic. They feel like...the future or something." There was no better way to explain it.

Just then, the dreams came back. Now I knew why this deck looked so familiar. I had jumped over this rail and plunged to my death, waiting for someone to catch me…

Tommy didn't say anything for a while. "Can you explain to me these dreams?"

I bit my bottom lip, rolling my tongue over my teeth. I was already regretting telling him these eccentric nightmares. "It started with me staring at myself through a mirror. I was holding a bouquet of white roses, and wore a pure white wedding dress. All of a sudden, I burst into tears and started to tear the room apart..." I stopped, unsure if I should continue. "What do you think that means?"

He smiled at me. "I have a feeling this dream isn't over yet," he said instead of answering my question.

I looked down and nodded slightly. "Yes, there's more." I wanted to consult this with Jack, but for now Tommy was my best solution. Jack would worry too much... I put my fingers to my temples and massaged them, mind whirring. "Everything was torn apart, from my dress to the room itself. A picture of me and my fiancé went crashing to the floor. I stormed out of the room, not able to continue with the wedding, and ran to the beach, looking for someone. I sat on the sand for what seemed like ages, and let out a cry when he did not come…" I shook my head, blood beating rapidly through my veins. "I was looking for Jack," I whispered before mumbling, "It all doesn't make sense."

Tommy exhaled a puff of smoke. I threw mine overboard, the once pacifying taste now made my nose wrinkle in disgust. "You've gotten this far," he concluded as he saw me begin to pout. "You might as well finish."

"All right," I said through gritted teeth. "And so my mother came to get me and I was back in the room I had torn apart, except this time everything was back to normal. I walked down the aisle, said our vows, and was hopelessly thrown away. That is, I think... All I remember is after that, there was blackness and a frigid cold... And I was right here, on this deck." I mimicked jumping over the railing my hand. "My last thought was of Jack, and then I was..._gone_."

There was silence after I was done with my tale. There was absolutely nothing left to be said. It was all pretty obvious after I said it all. If I marry Cal and leave Jack, then my life would end much sooner than expected. I would be strangled – metaphorically, of course, but constricted just the same – by his many flaws and displeasing ways. Tommy didn't need to explain anything to me. It was all so clear, my brain was irritated for even questioning it.

Just then, I longed to be in Jack's arms. Tears were starting to flood my eyes as guilt swarmed me. "Thank you for your consultation, Tommy. It was most appreciative," I said, collecting myself before walking away.

...

"Rose! Oh, thank God, there you are!"

I was welcomed to the third-class dining saloon with a warm, reassuring hug from Jack. He beamed down at me, but the corners of his lips fell when he saw my tears. "Rose, what's wrong?" he asked worriedly.

I sniffed, remembering how my flooded brain had been instantly cleared from that one conversation. Now, everything was crystal clear. "I'm so sorry," I squeaked out. "Oh, God, I can't believe it!" I then opened my arms and let him hug and kiss me again and again. I was so hysterical I couldn't make words. I put my head on his shoulder and shut my eyes, breathing in his scent. It all felt so familiar, so old of a gesture. Yet, there was something new about it, something protective and loving, as well.

"Do you forgive me?" I sniffled, my hidden eyes pleading he knew what I meant so I wouldn't have to explain it."

I felt his body chuckle. "You've never done anything wrong," he stated, kissing my temple. He pulled me away to look into my eyes. "I know you, Rose. And I understand that with your father's death and the debt situation, you did what you thought was best at that time."

I snorted. "Jack, I'm still young. I'm seventeen! Why should I trust myself with these kinds of decisions." I crossed my arms at my chest, but our bodies were still close. "And I always wondered why my mother decided everything for me."

Jack took my chin in his hand and made me look up into his serious eyes. "Don't say that," he whispered. "You've always been independent, Rose." He grinned, making my heart melt. "That's one of the many things I love about you."

The caring smile on his face was contagious, and I gave him a quick kiss before pulling him into a hug. "Thank you, Jack," I disclosed, grinning widely through my sloppy cheeks.

His smiling lips spread apart to show his perfect teeth. "Don't mention it," he said, then gave me a passionate kiss on the lips.

I laughed to myself, and began to pull my engagement ring off my finger. Drawing away from the romantic embrace, I put my forehead against his and looked him straight in the eye. "I want you to have this," I confirmed clearly, and showed him the large piece of diamond jewelry. "I don't need it anymore."

Jack gave me an inquisitive, confused look as I pushed the ring into his palm. "But, Rose-"

I shushed him and reiterated, "I don't need it, Jack. It's yours. Sell it, keep it, I don't care." I laughed silently to myself. "I don't want this ring pulling me down. It's only reminded me of the worst mistake I've ever made." I grinned mischievously. "Not being with you." My fingers played around with Jack's dirty-blond hair, and I found it impossible to look away from his handsome blue eyes. He pulled me closer, and I beamed even more brightly.

My father had always made me happy, and it wasn't until this morning that I understood that he wouldn't have wanted me in a relationship with Cal. I began to think that he was watching down on me, guiding me – in that hard, puzzling way of his – through my life.

Looking back on our time together, I remembered how much he looked up to Jack. How he always played around with him, putting a serious hand on his shoulder and informing him, "Take care of my daughter now. Have her home by ten." I was always embarrassed when he did that – after all, we were only going to the art museum – but now I loved it, because that's when I realized something else, too: This was where I belonged.

...

As the hours passed, my stomach began to get more nervous. My flushed cheeks turned a darker shade of red against the cold of the air. Putting my hands against them, I tried to relax my furrowed brow, not liking the wrinkly after effect.

Jack put his arms around my waist and pulled me into a warm embrace. He whispered in my ear, "What's wrong?"

I pushed him away and drew the coat more tightly around my shoulders. I wasn't in the mood anymore for affection. Exhaling greatly, I closed my eyes and put my head in my hands. The time we spent chatting with Fabrizio and Tommy seemed to blow away, leaving me with no emotion from the morning. Everything felt grim.

I mumbled, "Jack, I've been gone all day. Cal-" Saying his name made my teeth grit "- is probably wondering where in the world I've been." I shook my head. "I was planning on keeping up this good girl charade until we dock."

Jack didn't say anything for what seemed like too long of a time, and I looked up to see him walking away. "Where are you going?" I snapped, infuriated by his action.

He motioned me over. "I'm going back inside. It's freezing out here. Don't want to catch a cold, do you?"

I raised an eyebrow. "What's up with you now?"

He didn't answer my question, but instead held out his hand for me to take. Defeated, I stomped over to him and put my hand in his. "Take me away," I joked through my irritated attitude.

He put his arm around my shoulders, trying to get me warmed up. And he started to tug me along. I blinked innocently at him before rolled my eyes and letting a smile captivate my lips.

_Oh, Jack and his charming ways._

...

The eleventh of April had been a day of quite a few experiences. Though I didn't want to leave my time in steerage, I knew I had to go back to my position as a first-class lady and trophy wife before dinner. Besides: I couldn't go everywhere wearing my night gown, now, could I? Though it could almost pass for a dress with all its lace and layers.

Looking both ways as I fumbled with the knob, thinking, who needed three rooms for such a short time? The parlor suites – correction: the millionaire's suites, which only happened to be two –definitely spelled ritzy and rich. I nervously opened the door to the bedroom, my stomach doing flips.

I screamed when Cal's furious nails dug deep into the skin of my arm. It was a side of him I rarely saw. "Cal, let me go!" I struggled in his grip, but it was considered hopeless after many attempts.

"Where have you been?" he snapped, the anger in his eyes making my heart race.

"I-I was with a friend of mine," I stuttered, fumbling with my words.

I wasn't prepared for the slap, so when it came I went limp. Rubbing my cheek, I felt Cal's hand release my arm, and I fell to the floor. Tears of anger filled my eyes, and I didn't even make a sound. Instead, I picked myself up and called for Trudy to get ready for dinner.

The hurt on Cal's face couldn't get through the anger and disappointment that captivated my mind. "Rose-" he started, but I shut him up.

"Get. Out!" I barked, not wanting to see Cal's face for quite some time.

Hesitantly, he did as he was told, and I sat down on the bed and cried out all my tears, not acknowledging Trudy until I thought I was done. Though he had faults – and many of them indeed – I never would have thought of him as violent.

I got ready in silence, my heart silently wishing for Jack.

...

During dinner I kept my mouth shut, only speaking when spoken to. I didn't notice Cal, or Mother, or Mr. Andrews. I didn't answer my mother when she berated me for skipping lunch with Margaret Brown, the kind woman from Colorado who Mother called "new money," due to the fact that her husband struck gold someplace recently. I didn't notice anything at all; all I saw were Jack's blue eyes looking at me lovingly. I smiled and blushed slightly, hoping thoughts of my day with Jack would help occupy my throbbing heart.

I hid my left hand under the table even though it was covered with a glove I refused to take off. I was afraid Cal had some type of x-ray vision that could see right through me and my lies as I kept his hopes up for our marriage. I let him order for me, but I barely ate a speck of duck as the table's conversation turned to the upcoming wedding.

I immediately felt guilty, because even though I never liked Cal, I knew he had a heart somewhere. I gently placed my fork and knife on my plate, indicating that I was still eating. The whole table sounded excited and thrilled, and it hurt to let the people I've known for so long down by running away.

But the happy conversation soon turned distasteful, with Mother complaining about how I had chosen her least favorite color, lavender, for the bridesmaids' gowns. By the way Lady Duff Gordon, who the world called a fashion designer but who I called a woman making naughty lingerie for the stuck-up royals, answered my mother's distress ("You should have come to me sooner!") I began to question how I would ever miss them.

I let my eyes wander across the room and let my ears amuse themselves with the political talk brewing between Cal, Mr. Ismay, and Mr. Andrews. Their debate turned to flattery when Cal made, yet again, another snood comment on how spectacular Mr. Andrews' ship was. Which it was, of course; it was grand. But it still trapped me until we docked.

_Just a few more days, _I told myself. _You could survive._

Mr. Andrews asked me if I was all right, and I nodded mechanically. My life, which was being planned in front of me, rolled out in my head. God, with Cal she never would see her kids. They'd be brought up by some caretaker, reminding me of my old nanny, Gertrude, who was nasty and mean and smelled like rotting cabbage. But my father, who looked past society's game, fired her when I was five in an attempt to bond with his only child.

For the rest of the night I didn't look anyone in the eye. I wouldn't have seen them, anyway: I was already planning my escape.


	12. Undying Love

**Fun Fact #12: The "Unsinkable" Molly Brown**

**When asked about how she survived, Margaret Brown responded, "Typical Brown luck. We're unsinkable." Since then, she was given the Hollywood nickname "Molly" after her death in 1932, though she was only ever called Maggie by her friends, and a Broadway musical was produced in 1960 with a film adaption in 1964 titled "The Unsinkable Molly Brown****.****" Though she wasn't born a wealthy woman, her husband acquired wealth one day from a job well done, and they moved to Denver, Colorado. She traveled with John Jacob Astor and his wife in Cairo before the **_**Titanic, **_**and booked as a first-class passenger after learning that her son was ill. She's best known for demanding lifeboat number six to go back and help victims, but it was unclear if they ever did. **

**Chapter 11**

**Undying Love**

The morning of April twelfth, I awoke to bright sunlight streaming through the doors of the private promenade deck, my skull aching with a dull pain. My vision felt hazy, and deep scratches were imbedded in my arm. I saw the broken vase of yellow and white roses on the floor, stale water leaking through the oriental carpeting, and rubbed my thudding head. That's when I remembered last night.

_After dinner, I let Cal escort me back to the cabin. He looked very angry with me, a different kind of fury this time, something I hadn't seen with him, even after I disappeared for the day. His facial expression was terribly upsetting, and my heart that was soaring so fast through the whole dinner plummeted to the ground. "Is something wrong, darling?" I asked in my best sympathetic, perfect-wife voice._

_Cal glared at me and studied me from head to toe before answering. "Nothing at all, sweet pea." The nickname sickened me, but I gave a weak smile instead._

_I knew it was best not to disturb him, so we headed up the Grand Staircase in total silence, my arm in his, only stopping once on C-deck for Cal to check a valuable of his – a piece of fine jewelry I had never seen hiding out in a velvet box – from the purser. After a while, the still air become discomforting. "Are you sure you're all right, dear?" I tried again._

_Cal kept his words in until we reached our cabin, where he yanked open the door and pushed me inside, grabbing my arm violently. I let out a terrified yelp. I had no idea how else to react. "I need to know everything you've been doing this voyage so far."_

_I gulped, fear overwhelming me. "What do you mean?" I was scared to ask it, but I needed clarification, and what I got as a response was a hard slap on the cheek for the second time that night. A tear escaped and slid slowly down my cheek; had he not learned from before? And this whole time I thought he had a heart!_

_My hair, as bulky and heavy as it was, fell out of its bun, the red locks curling around my shoulders and face. Rubbing my burning cheek, I felt like I was on the verge of screaming__._

_"You know what I mean," he empathized through gritted teeth. His hands laid a deathly grip on my shoulder. If I said the wrong words, he would crush me. Taking a panicky, reassuring breath, I looked him right in the eye, as fearful as it was, and calmly said, "I was with a friend of mine, by the name of Jack. He was an old servant of ours years ago. We kept in touch, and I went to see how he's been holding up these past years..." I then closed my eyes, waiting for the next violent slap. _

_Instead, I felt Cal's grip lessen on my shoulders. "You're not telling me everything," he hissed through gritted teeth, his fingers at the bridge of his nose. "I need to know everything."_

_"That is everything, Cal, I don't know what more I could tell you__-__-"_

_"That's enough!" he yelled infuriatingly, taking my shoulders again and pushing me against the wall. My head hit the elegant décor with a disgusting crack, and I fell on the floor with a hard thud, my mind whirring. _He can't possibly hurt me anymore than he already has... _I thought, even though I knew it was possible. I had no idea what was making him act so irrationally, but it led me into hyperventilation._

_His face lurked above mine, my breath coming in petrified little cries. I felt his hot breath on my face, and closed my eyes to block out the formidable image in front of me. "Where were you really last night?"_

_Terror spread throughout me, making me shake. He made no recognition before of knowing I was gone for the night. "I-I was w-with Jack," I confessed and pretended to hang my head in shame._

_Cal's hard grip turned to my chin, where he yanked my head up. "And?" he urged on, his brown eyes boring into my blue-green ones. I read the emotions in his eyes, and again I felt at fault: He was obviously jealous. If I were in his position, I can admit it: Adultery was something no one should go through. _

_"H-he comforted me from a b-bad dream I h-had," I stammered, letting the warm tears roll down my cheeks._

_"Oh, is that so?" Cal chuckled, releasing his grip on me. I sat there, shaking, as he headed to the bedroom, stopped, and said, turning his head around to face mine, "You are not to see him again, Rose."_

_"No!" I snapped at him, my shock replaced by fury. I quickly covered my mouth when he turned around suspiciously. Looking deep into his eyes, something lit up, and that's when I knew that he finally made the connection. "I want to see him!" I yelled weakly, watching his face contort from jealousy. "You can't stop me…"_

_Cal shook his head, almost sadly. "You listen to what I tell you!" he demanded, and swore under his breath, pounding a fist on the nearest table. "Now tell me you won't see him again."_

_I picked myself off from the floor, though everything was tilting and multiplying around me. I intimidatingly approached him with wobbly steps. I looked him straight in the eye, never breaking the gaze, and firmly said, "_No._" _

_Cal said no more. There was nothing left to be said. He just gritted his teeth, closed his eyes in pure frustration, and turned back on his heels. He stopped at the bedroom door. "Are you coming, Rose?" Was that…_hope_ in his voice?_

_Remembering his violent actions, my pity for him faded. I felt disgusted and insulted. I shook my head at him angrily, my arms crossed at my chest. "Why would I be?"_

I remember throwing the pot of flowers at him when I refused, and how he had slapped me again. I had finally broken down and curled into a pathetic ball at his feet, sobbing my teenage heart out. When I finally had the strength, I had thrown together a sort of bed on the couch and fell asleep, tears staining my cheeks, as I thought of my Jack.

He was so kind to me; always so gentle. Why couldn't Cal be more like him? I was just relieved he hadn't noticed the missing engagement ring, and sighed deeply as I flipped over on my back and stared at the decorative ceiling. My eyes glistened and heart sang as I started thinking of him, always surpassing the nightmarish aspect of a Hockley-DeWitt Bukater matrimony. I didn't notice I had started dreamily humming when I heard Cal's grim voice bark, "What are you doing?"

I could still pinpoint the jealousy in his voice, along with some guilt, sorrow, and anger. I was shaken out of my reverie, jerking up and off the couch. A swarm of nausea ran over me, but I shook my head and solidly said, putting my hands to my temples, "I was _sleeping_, Cal."

He didn't say a word as he opened the door, slamming it behind him. I tried to let him not get to me like he did, but spending the past few months with him left me shaking. I took a seat back on the couch and closed my eyes to block out the blood pumping in my ears.

...

_Everything had turned out so terrible,_ I thought as I dressed for lunch that afternoon.As Trudy laced my corset up, I reported to her the dreadful things that had occurred last night. She knew I didn't like Cal one bit, and nodded her head appropriately as I told the tale in tears. "It was all so terrifying, Trudy," I whispered, just in case Cal was in the other room. She handed me a handkerchief to dab my wet eyes. "I thought he was going to... _really_ hurt me." I shivered and I covered my face in my hands and sobbed.

"It's all right, miss. Everything will be all right," she soothed, rubbing my back to calm me. Even she was horrified by how abusive Cal was, her eyes widening when I told her every single detail.

I made my way to the A deck promenade after a very awkward luncheon, and hurriedly made my way aft. Approaching the railing, I took a hold of it in my gloved hands and searched through the steerage passengers below. One caught my eye, and with an ecstatic smile I hurried down the stairs to the forecastle deck, where I opened the gate that separated the third from the first and made quite an entrance, skirt in hand, people's curious eyes looking at me strangely.

"Jack!" I exclaimed, waving my hand up in the air. "Jack!"

He looked up from his artwork, saw it was me, and smiled brightly. He put his stuff down and approached me, pulling me into a long hug. "How've you been?" he asked me. Jack Dawson, always putting others first.

"I-I've been better," I faltered, shrugging sadly. I told him everything about what Cal had done, and when he fumbled in his pocket for the engagement ring, I forcefully told him to keep it and that I could handle whatever came my way. However, that didn't ease the fury and hysterics printed on his face when he learned of Cal's abusive side.

"Jack, I could look over myself perfectly fine," I appeased. I then gave him a sweet, dimpled grin and added, "But that's what I love about you: always caring for your friends." His contorted face didn't change. My smile was wiped away and replaced with a frown. "Jack, forget about it. I'm fine, no bruises. See?" I had left out quite a few details, including all the makeup I was wearing to cover up the ugly signs of internal bleeding, and also when I was pushed into the wall and slapped three times – which turned out to be quite a lot of information. But I just didn't want him to worry. Didn't he have enough to be anxious about with me dropping the whole I'm-getting-off-the-ship-with-you bomb?

Eventually his façade loosened up and Jack studied my face, smiling weirdly in that sickly sweet way of his, and when I asked him what he was doing, he told me to stay still. I raised an eyebrow, and he put his finger to my forehead and pushed the skin down. "I told you to stay still!" he laughed.

"All right, all right!" I accepted defeat, putting my hands up. "But you've got to tell me what in the world you're doing."

He cocked his head, and his grin widened. "Thinking of the perfect way to draw you."

I blushed a deep shade of crimson, my cheeks and neck burning. This made Jack laugh even harder, and he put a hand to my cheek. I shyly grinned back and put my hand over his. "Come here," he said, giving me his free hand, which I took without hesitance.

As I followed him, he picked up his sketchbook that he had left on a bench and asked, "Do you mind sitting still for an hour or so?"

I rolled my eyes and said, "Sure. Why not?"

He nodded politely to his friends, who held in their laughter until last minute, and led me through the hallways of third-class, my face glowing as I held my gaze on our interlocked hands.

...

Closing the cabin door behind me, I bit my lip to keep in my sudden raptures of giggles, and put my back to the door.

The drawing was so beautiful. It had been on a chair in the third-class corridors, and after Jack had captured my pose he had kissed me, and never before had it felt so sugar-coated as it had before. A rush of emotion had covered every inch of my body, and it wasn't until that moment that I really realized what love was.

The way his eyes seized my soul and put it on paper astounded me. Shaking my head in disbelief at the wonderful piece of artwork, I gently folded it and tucked it into my valise, planning to lock it safely in the drawer in my vanity back in Southampton.

Preparing for dinner, I smiled the whole time as I laid out my outfit and did everything myself, forgetting about Trudy's help. I laughed on and off, especially as I did my corset, looking at myself through the mirror at how silly it all looked.

In a rush of nerves, I had asked Jack if he would like to dine with me and my family. I had then kindly asked Margaret Brown, who I had a long conversation with a couple hours ago in the reading and writing room, if she could assist Jack in wearing the proper attire. She agreed enthusiastically; we had struck up a good friendship already. All I could think of was what Jack's reaction would be to the tuxedo he'd most likely be wearing. I remembered his warm touch on my skin, and shivered at the thought.

I excused Trudy, explaining to her that I could put on the finishing touches. Dabbing on some rouge on my cheeks, I hastily made my way to Margaret's cabin, knocking on the door, my knuckles shaking with adrenaline. She answered my knock. "Come right in," she welcomed, closing the door behind me as I walked past.

"Hello, Maggie. How are you?" I asked, trying to strike up a conversation, and also to inform Jack (who was somewhere in the cabin, I am sure) that I was here.

"I'm doing great, darlin'," she replied, giving me a small wink I knew the intention for. "Jack's almost done; you know how men take forever."

I laughed, the sound heard throughout the whole room. "I thought that would be the women," I joked back, replying to her jest.

Maggie shook her head teasingly. "Nope, I think we just misunderstand them." I chuckled some more, putting a hand to my mouth, when Jack opened the door, stunning me with his entrance. "Jack!" I exclaimed, my hand dropping to my side. "You clean up nice!"

He winked at me. "I thought I always look nice." I playfully punched him in the shoulder like we were only friends, nothing more, as he adjusted his bow tie at the mirror. I watched both of our reflections through the looking glass, and as his eyes met mine, I blushed and retreated, my fingers which were once lingering on his shoulder brush away.

"We should get going," I said, trying to cover up the touching moment that had turned suddenly awkward. "Jack, would you like to escort me?" I gave him my arm, a mischievous glint in my eyes.

"Of course, miss," he replied, taking a small bow and placing a kiss on my gloved hand. "I saw that in a nickelodeon once and always wanted to do it," he whispered, and I smiled admiringly at him. It reminded me of the time when Jack had taken me to see a nickelodeon once, where for a nickel we cranked this machine that showed a short silent film. We watched a bunch for the rest of the night.

Maggie watched us as we made our way down the hallway, our bodies occasionally brushing against the others in a very familiar manner. She smiled at us with her big red lips, and moved to the other side of Jack. "Do you mind escorting another lady to dinner?"

"Certainly," Jack said mockingly in his fake British accent, and I laughed quietly at his good sense of humor, though he must have been nervous inside – and wanting to beat Cal up into a pulp.

...

Cal glared at me the entire time. Now that he knew who Jack was, he wasn't the slightest bit happy. My goal, however, was to not only ignore his furious glances, but to help Jack in every way possible to survive the night. I told him how to eat the "proper" way, as my mother puts it, and how to avoid conversation. He seemed uncomfortable, sending glares at Cal when no one was looking, but I held his hand during the beginning under the table to comfort him.

I felt the invigorating sensation of his finger trailing against the skin of my hand until we were forced to separate as the waiters arrived.

Dinner went smoothly, and I let Jack lead me back to my cabin for an early departure. My excuse was that I had not been feeling well, and that I should make sure Jack got back to his section of the ship safely, "as every woman should do" – which Cal instantly corrected, saying it was not a woman's job to do such things.

"You did a great job at dinner tonight," I praised Jack as we walked, hand in hand, on the boat deck. The sky was pitch-black, and the many stars twinkled above. No one was out on a cold night like this, and Jack had given me his jacket to wear around my shoulders.

Jack laughed. "God, I was dying inside!"

I burst into giggles at his comment, and replied, "Really? I didn't know."

I let the caress of his hand soothe me in every way possible. I took a settling deep breath through my nose, loving the way my hand fit in his.

"You're beautiful when you do that, you know."

I snapped out of my contentedness. My blue-green eyes widened in Jack's direction. "When I do what?"

We stopped and Jack gave me a small peck on the lips. His forehead leaned against my own as he said, "Have that dreamy look on your face. It's cute."

I smirked and blinked innocently at him. "Cute? You think I'm just _cute_? Such a preposterous word!"

Jack chuckled at my response and pulled me in for an even more passionate embrace. "I love you," he whispered in my ear, his warm breath on my neck, and I closed my eyes as I let the reality of the words soak in, feeling like we were the only two in the world.


	13. First Class Encounters

**Fun Fact #13: Middle-Class Accounts**

**One of the most renowned survivors to give an account of what she witnessed was second-class passenger Ruth Becker, who was twelve when the tragedy happened. She was accompanied by her mother Nellie, her sister Marion, and her brother Richard. They had been living in India until Richard caught an illness, and Nellie decided to take him back to the U.S. for treatment. Their father was to join them the following year. The Beckers survived the outcome, even though Ruth was separated from her family when loading the boats. She was plunked down in lifeboat thirteen by surprise. Another famous second-class passenger was Michel Navratil, who was divorced with two sons. While they were visiting, he decided to take them to America, and he went incognito as Louis M. Hoffman on the **_**Titanic**_**. He made others believe that "Mrs. Hoffman" was dead, even though his ex-wife, Marcelle, was well and alive back in France, searching for her missing children. During the sinking, he handed his kids over to a lifeboat, but neither of them spoke English. Though he didn't survive the disaster, his kids were known as the "**_**Titanic**_** Boys" and were retrieved by their mother.**

**Chapter 12**

**First-Class Encounters**

On the morning of April thirteenth, I had a strange feeling in my heart. I had awakened from a dream of my father, who loved me so those many years ago before the illness took him. He was telling me another one of his riddles, something about the princess and the peasant. Then the memory of what he told me a decade ago, holding up a certain book with a sphinx cover in particular.

"_A book is no ordinary object. With its binding and full pages, an adventure awaits you at every turn. When you open it up, it looks like a scramble of words. But if __you take the time to enjoy a book, then maybe, my rose petal – _just maybe_ – you will find what treasure awaits you."_

"_Like what, Papa? Cleopatra's tomb?"_

"_Oh no, my dear. A time warp is what I mean."_

He never gave me a full explanation for what he meant, saying that the good example of a novel he picked out was too hard to understand. Politics, time travel, and complicated science. Things I didn't understand.

My gears shifted to Jack, who had helped me out a lot in my life. He was always there when I needed him. A shoulder to cry one, someone who made me laugh and made me feel like we were the only two people in the world.

Of course I knew what my father would tell me now, I thought as I turned my head to look out at the ocean waves, bright blue in the sun. I had slept on the couch again, not wanting to see Cal's face, as awful and cruel as that sounds. He had been furious with me for bringing Jack along, and I knew it was his jealousy. But then again, in the way he said it, it sounded... different. Like he was more than just jealous, he was... humiliated.

I could barely remember anything but Jack from dinner last night. Everyone else had been a blur. I had received a few blows to the arm for that.

But the way Jack kissed me... It was as though a thousand sunsets were setting, just for us... I knew, for once in my life, what I was doing as I pulled on a simple dress and made my way down to steerage. Slumming, they called it.

_When times get rough, Rose, don't run away from your problems. Face them. And if they're too hard to face, then don't face them at all: just find a person to help you through it._

My father was right, as was I. That's what I knew he would say if I had to face a problem, such as an arranged marriage. The fact, though, that it had been planned around me, gossips and rumors flying, had only made the pressure worse. Though I knew of Cal's plan to court me, I had waved off the marriage talk as though it wouldn't happen. And then it did. And all I wanted to do was scream and run away... Yet, I was too scared to face my biggest problem: Cal. So, I had let Jack help me through it, though I denied him at first. How stupid I was at that time! But everything was forgiven.

"Jack!" I exclaimed as I saw him in the third-class general room, sketchbook in hand as usual. He waved at me, that charming smile on his face that made me want to melt. Pushing through the small crowd, I fell into his strong, protective arms that would forever support me in my life. His hand traveled up my own arm, and I winced and pulled away.

Jack, being careful, as always, tried to read the expression through my eyes first. Then, he had slowly moved his hand across my sleeve, letting it rest on the fabric and then gently tugging it up to reveal a huge, purple bruise on my pale complexion.

His face contorted into something of hatred, and he had to put his head in his hands to calm himself. He swore under his breath, and then uttered, "He did this to you, didn't he?"

I nodded solemnly. "Yes, but Jack-"

I was cut off by his sudden action, one where he ran from his original position through the crowd and into the ship. I followed urgently, but he was too fast for me. I lost sight of him from the moment I stepped foot onto the less-lavish carpet of the corridor. Nervous, I leaned my body against the wall and closed my eyes, a bad feeling bubbling in my throat.

Though the thought of Cal beaten up pleased me, I still couldn't see Jack getting locked up for it. Cal always gets what he wants. It was the first thing I learned about him just by his expression! Jack wouldn't have a chance. I would probably have to bail him out later, if he goes under arrest.

Realizing how stupid that sounded, I ran onto the forecastle deck and onto the promenade, feeling the sun beat down on the cold air. I heard my heels click on the wood as I made my way across the deck, excusing myself as I ran past the few people taking a morning stroll. Pulling the door that led to the Grand Staircase with much force, I ran into the tiny space that had three doors: one being the one I just came in from, and the two others being entrances to the Grand Staircase and the gymnasium. I was welcomed by a gentleman who held the door open for me. "Thank you," I politely said as I rubbed my cold arms. I had forgotten to wear a jacket.

The Grand Staircase was as grand as it always had been since I set foot on the _Titanic_. I went down a couple flights to B deck. Reluctantly making my way to the port side door, where the even numbered cabins lay, I let my eyes flicker both ways out of habit and then went inside, stepping into the plush hallway.

"Rose!" I heard someone yell, and looked back at the elaborately carved staircase. It was Margaret Brown who had seen me, and was hurriedly walking down the stone steps. "Rose," she said again, and waved with jolly.

Putting a smile on my face, I walked towards her approaching figure. "Hello, Maggie. Lovely day, isn't it?" I was a little agitated by this interruption.

"It is quite beautiful out there. But the cold! It's as chilly as a Colorado winter out there!"

When she said that, I thought of Jack, and his many snow-filled experiences in his hometown in Wisconsin. "Yes, it is very frigid outside." I rubbed my arms for more effect, trying to make my eyes shine as I smiled as though nothing was bothering me.

Maggie gave me a look that read right through me. "Something's wrong, Rose."

I sighed, giving up. I was too worried to try and shrug off my problems. "Yes, Maggie. In fact, there is some trouble."

Maggie kindly put a hand to my shoulder, encouraging me to continue as she said, "You may tell me."

I smiled weakly at her as a way of saying thanks. "It's about Jack. He's... Well, on a rampage, I guess. I was too calm at the time to realize what he was doing to try and stop him; I didn't expect anything to go wrong. But then he saw the bruise on my arm that Cal gave me, and-"

Maggie's eyes widened in shock. "Cal, he... He _beat_ you?"

I gulped away the small lump forming in my throat and nodded. "Yes, but that's not important right now. Jack, he...ran away somewhere, and though I have a good idea what he's going to do, well... I just don't want any problems right now."

Maggie nodded, uncomfortable yet understanding. "Of course, Rose. I know what you're trying to say. How about we go to your cabin and see if Jack is there?" She gave me her arm, and I took it gratefully. "Thank you, Maggie," I sighed with relief. "I didn't want to go alone... I really don't like seeing men fight over me." I laughed forcefully to ease the tension, but it wasn't one bit convinced.

When we reached the cabin, I knocked on the door with the most confidence I could muster. "Cal, darling, are you in there?" I heard a nasty thud, profanity rising in the air. "Oh, God!" I exclaimed, and started jiggling the door knob to get in, but the stupid rubbish was locked.

There was a crash. An angry scream. Someone yelling my name.

Maggie rolled up her sleeves and said, "Let me try this, Rose." With her gloved hand, she forcefully took the knob and crashed it inwards, breaking the door, a strength I didn't know she had. I put my hand up to my mouth in shock. "Maggie-" I began.

"Hush now, darlin', I'll pay for it, if need," she established, and stepped over a broken vase at the entrance.

Never before had my eyes seen such a frightful scene. The room was thrown apart, the furniture askew. My heart was pounding in fear and disgust, because I knew both men were strong and powerful in their own way. Seeing some blood on the floor, I began to feel sick, and weakly peeped, "Maggie? Jack?" I felt like all my energy had been drained from me, and my knees buckled. I took deep breaths to stop my whirling, dizzy mind.

"Now, it's time to break it up, you two," I heard Maggie say, and saw two – or was it four? – bodies rise from the ground, broken glass falling to the carpet. "There."

Then I felt two arms wrap around me and made out Jack's worried voice. "Are you all right, Rose?" His hand was on my forehead. "Maggie, she's burning up!"

That's all I remembered before I passed out, cold as this morning's wind.

...

I woke with a cool compress on my forehead. I twitched my fingers and felt someone's hand holding mine. The room was white, and I instantly knew I was in the ship's infirmary. Jerking up, nausea bubbled up in my stomach, and Jack's warm hand pushed me back down on to my back. I looked at his concerned eyes, my brow furrowed. "What happened?" I asked.

"You fainted, Rose. Do you know why?" Jack's finger trailed across my knuckles.

"Seeing the broken glass... The room all thrown apart... The blood on the floor..." I had to take a deep breath as stars appeared in front of my eyes again. Jack took the compress off of my head, dipped it in ice-cold water, and rubbed it against my skin. "You're still heating up...," he whispered, and I felt his lips on my forehead, making me smile.

"You care too much for me, Jack," I laughed. I closed my eyes contently. "You're the only person I can trust."

I couldn't see Jack's facial expression, but I knew he was smiling. I didn't pretend to not see the sparks between us.

"What happened to Cal?" I asked. "Or, more specifically, what did _you_ do to Cal?"

Jack's tone was serious as he grumbled, "Beat him up into the pulp he really is."

"Oh," was all I was able to respond, not sure how to react.

It was silent when Jack added, "You know, he's threatened to sue me. Put me in jail or something like that." My face paled, and I pretended to be asleep. "I'm sorry, Rose."

I didn't answer. I felt tears stinging under my closed eyes, and the corner of my lip twitch. _It's my fault... And he looks so beat up, too._

"Rose?" His hand shook mine gently. I kept my sleeping façade. Exhaling deeply, he put his lips near my ear and whispered, "I'm going to take you away, Rose. We'll go far away, I promise."

It was hard not to smile, because that was exactly how content I was.

...

I skipped all meals that day, and by eight, I was starving. I didn't want to go back to the cabin, afraid if Cal was there. I didn't want to see his wounds and feel like I was to blame. If that's what Cal could do to Jack – and I know from personal experience that he hasn't done five minutes of intense labor in his life – I didn't want to see the horrors Jack could do to his stuck-up face.

"Does it hurt?" I had asked Jack a little while after his promise, putting my hand over his bruised eye. He reached up for my fingers and tenderly caressed them. He smiled at me and my distress, replying, "Not really."

But then I saw him wince, and I pulled away, a small frown on my face. "Yes, it does."

I had my arm bandaged too, though it wasn't my fault the small scrapes I had received unknowingly from the pieces of glass on the floor were hidden by my noticeable purple markings. The bruise was ugly, I had to admit that, but I didn't like the feel of bandages around my skin. It made me think of the time Jack and I were climbing a tree, and I had fallen and broken my arm. He had immediately rushed for help, and carried me home so I could be sitting more comfortably on the couch. I was eleven then, and he was fourteen. It was a time when we had separated a bit, but were still close; after all, why would a teenager want to play with a kid? It was a confusing time for both of us, but when I turned thirteen, our friendship came back together, and we became closer than ever before.

Oh, I remember those times. It was when both of us were awkward about our bodies and what was going through our minds, and how we had this eccentric interest with the opposite sex. That's when I began to fall for him, though I always liked him; but for him to have shown interest in me while I was so hesitant, it made my heart flutter like every young girl with a sweet crush. We're always so gullible at that age, which is why I never took Jack's friendly affections during my adolescent years seriously. Now that I was becoming an adult, though, I wonder why I always had questioned him...

The moonlight through the small infirmity window shimmered on the white room, making it brighter. My eyes reflected the darkness of the ocean and the sky, and my stomach grumbled in hungry protest. Yet, I didn't want to eat; my mind was on how Jack was coping.

Lovejoy, Cal's annoying and malicious-looking manservant, had come in and told Jack that Cal wished to speak to him. It has been two hours since then, and only the kind Mr. Andrews had come to see how I was fairing. But Jack, he hasn't come back once; a bad feeling arose in my throat. I swallowed it, though, not wanting to think bad thoughts.

Just when a tension headache was threatening to start, Mother came bursting through the door, causing the few people in the hospital beds (some who were first-class who had upset stomachs from the rich food the _Titanic _served) to stir and grumble in protest. "Rose!" she exclaimed and ran to my bedside, tears in her eyes. "Rose, are you all right?" She put her cold, careless hands on my cheeks.

I pushed her away irritably. "I'm fine, Mother," I spat heartlessly.

"Oh, thank God!" she sobbed, and put her arms around me. I felt guilty for snapping at her like I did. She did have a heart, I guess, that still loved, just in a different way. I hugged her back with little care, though.

"Who did this to you?" she asked, holding my arm in her hands and looking at me with tear-filled eyes.

"It was Cal," I told her, hoping she would realize how wrong he was to be my husband. However, it seemed like she hadn't heard.

"It was that Jack boy, wasn't it? Oh, Rose, I told you to stay away from him, didn't I?" she scolded, ignoring my words.

"It was Cal," I repeated, but she continued to lecture. "It was Cal..."

Mother would always be self-focused, and Cal would always be the arrogant man he is. The higher society will always be more egocentric and narrow-minded, and I will always be the misfit trying to escape. Sometimes I wonder if I will ever be able to break away from them - even with Jack by my side.


	14. Surprises

**Fun Fact #14: Communication Onboard**

**The **_**Titanic**_** was decked out with a Marconi room where passengers rich enough to spend twelve shillings and a six pence for ten words, and nine pence after that, could send wireless messages. In 1837, Samuel Morse invented the electrical recording telegraph. He's also known for inventing Morse Code, a series of dots and lines that indicating how long or how short each letter on the alphabet had to be held out on the machine. In 1910, Guglielmo Marconi created something similar, but his telegraph was able to transfer electrical currents from one antenna to another. On the **_**Titanic**_**, the wireless room was located on the boat deck and was run by Jack Phillips and Harold Bride. Because of a malfunction halfway through the voyage, messages were delayed until April fourteenth, and when **_**Californian**_** operator Cyril Evans tried to contact the **_**Titanic**_**, Phillips typed back, "Shut up! I'm busy!" The Californian was only fifty miles away, but Evans had turned off his machine for the night. Bride survived the sinking, but Phillips died from exposure.**

**Chapter 13**

**Surprises**

The next day arrived with a wind full of bitterness that nipped at your nose and penetrated your warmest cloak. April fourteenth was, indeed, a dreadful day, even through its beautiful sky.

Leaving the infirmary, worry clogged my throat as I thought of Jack, who had never showed up last night. Was he all right? However, the first thing I did was go back to my cabin, even with the fearful possibilities multiplying in my blood.

Taking a profound breath, I pushed open the broken door. The sight shocked me. The sitting room was still disheveled from last night, and there was Cal, filing a report to the Master-at-Arms, I presumed. Anger rising in my throat, I made a lunge for him and screamed, "You _monster_! What did you do to him?"

I was becoming hysterical, and after they removed me from Cal's sprawled body, I dove again, this time punching him squarely in the nose, which started to bleed profusely. I barely noticed his present wounds by the courtesy of Jack; how could I be so worried by something as stupid as that?

Striking him over and over again, I started to weaken, my strength slackening. I was in a flurry of tears, for I did not know what was going on. Just where was Jack? And why was the ship's police force here?

My vision was blurred by the time they pulled me off him for good. My breathing came in large, irregular gasps from anger and fear. I was hyperventilating but didn't know it.

_He could hurt someone. He could ruin them._

Terror clogging my throat, I could barely breath. My eyes rolled to the back of my head and blackness overcame me.

...

I woke to the bright afternoon sky shining in my eyes, though all I saw was double. Once my sight had cleared, I noticed the room was much tidier, yet still quite broken, and I sat up slowly on the plush couch I had been laid out on. A towel that had once been frigidly cold now fell off my forehead, heated and wet. Blinking, I saw no one in the cabin.

_Good_, I thought. _Cal is gone..._

And then I thought of Jack, who was still missing in my life. I tried to act calm by smoothing out my skirts and dashing for the door hurriedly, gently slamming it on the way out. Inside, I was screaming at Cal's stupidity – and the blunder I made months ago that will forever haunt me.

...

The beautiful day was getting shorter, the outside air was becoming nippier, and my heart was pounding harder in my chest as I searched all of the first-class decks for Mr. Andrews. Our nice conversation yesterday in the infirmary made him a trustworthy – and valuable – subject. He reminded me of my father in some ways, with his driven determination and belief of justice. Right now I stood outside Captain Smith's quarters, impatiently clicking my fingernails on the wood frame, for I heard voices coming from inside. When the two had exited, though, it turned out to be just the captain and a concerned Colonel Gracie.

"Is something the matter, Colonel?" I asked innocently as my face flushed red from embarrassment. I snuck a peak into the room, but no one else was there. Both gave me a rather perplexed look.

The colonel seemed to shrug it off and answered, "Why, Miss Rose, I am quite anxious here with all these ice warnings. If you will excuse me." And he walked away, dabbing a handkerchief to his sweaty face, his eyebrows furrowed.

I gave the captain a very much worried expression as well. _Ice warnings?_

Captain Smith gave me a weak smile in return, his skin crinkling at his eyes from years of use. "It's completely normal this time of years, Miss DeWitt Bukater," he replied. "In fact, we're speeding up."

I nodded my head, though the word _ice_ was stuck in my head. "Captain, where may I find Mr. Andrews?" I didn't want to get in any kind of trouble by questioning the captain about where criminals went. What type of innocent girl asked that – or even got involved with scoundrels?

"He'd most likely be in the smoking room," he replied, and we started to walk together, for he was quite a busy man and had places to be. "But young ladies such as yourself aren't allowed to trespass in there."

Yes, women weren't allowed in the smoking room. But as I made my way across the A deck promenade, my light pink coat tucked warmly around my body, I pulled out a small pack of cigarettes I had sneakily taken from Cal from one of the pockets. Opening the door that led to the aft Grand Staircase, I stopped in front of the smoking room door to light the disgusting, yet addicting, detriment to my health. Taking a long, drawn breath, I stepped in, preparing myself for the unknown things men do in their spare time.

I looked around carefully to make sure Cal wasn't in the room before I actually stepped on to the plush carpet, convinced he was not. Billows of smoke rose around me from men playing card games on wood tables and plush chairs. They talked politics and business. I wasn't the least bit surprised. A few stared at me, though I ignored their prying eyes, because I had found Mr. Andrews at the fireplace talking with some businesslike men.

"Mr. Andrews!" I exclaimed, catching the attention of others while walking quickly towards him. A small smile appeared through my relief. "Thank God I've found you!"

"Miss Rose?" he asked, looking at me as the men he was previously talking to looked back too, almost unsure if I was actually there. For once I wished I had something that would give an ugly blemish to my face. "What are you doing in here?"

"I have no time for explanations," I explained, my words coming as a rush out of my mouth. Tears had already formed in my eyes. "Where would the Master-at-Arms take someone under arrest?"

Mr. Andrews gave me an inquisitive look. "Passengers aren't allowed down there."

My tone started begging as I said, "Mr. Andrews, please. I won't interfere with anything, just..._please_ tell me where they would go."

After a minute of thinking, he told me the directions and I ran out of the room, the cigarette I had lit before completely forgotten. As I stepped outside again, I threw it over the rail, and it flew in a smoky arc before plopping, turning flat, in the waves.

...

When I had reached the entrance that said "Crew Passage," I walked swiftly through, my frantic behavior slowly receding. I wasn't afraid of getting caught; Jack told me I've always had this daring personality that made everything we did together thrilling.

_Jack_... Hopefully nothing bad had happened. I had barely stayed conscious to hear the tale. Fainting was something likely for a girl with my background, but I didn't like my sensitivity at all. I made me feel weak, scrawny, and like I was a porcelain doll that could be played around with.

Taking a couple rights, I found the door and reluctantly knocked on it. "Hello?" I said, my white knuckles gently pounding on the wood. "Is there anyone in here?"

A burly man opened it a crack and peered down at me. "Oh!" I gasped, his physical appearance threatening.

"What are you doing here, young lass?" he asked in a Scottish accent.

"O-oh," I stuttered, playing around with my manicured nails. "I was w-wondering if I could see someone."

He blinked down at me. I blinked back, but more fearfully, though I tried to make it seem like I was a _little _intimidating. Then he stepped back and opened the door.

Only one person was there, handcuffed to a pole, and it certainly wasn't Jack. It was someone I didn't know, someone obviously from third-class... Deep inside, I wished it had been Cal. Mr. Andrews knew the sappy story of our impeccable relationship after all. I hoped he would make the connection of where I could have possibly gotten those bruises from; maybe he thought I got in between the brawl, a key factor I should have mentioned that never happened.

"Thank you," I said to the formidable man before dashing back out. The door slammed behind me with a loud shut, proclaiming my failure to the world. I had to prevent myself from slapping my forehead from the stupidity of my actions. Why hadn't I checked the third-class general room first? In my defense, it _was _my best guess. After all, why wouldn't he have visited me like he promised he would?

Reaching the gate I have crossed so many times before, I took two stairs at a time (tripping once and hitting my head on the adjacent wall, and I was still a little dizzy by the time I reached the bottom). Then I checked the dining area for the lowest class, but found no one I knew there.

I had to take the stairs all the way back up to get to the poop deck, where a cold breeze greeted me. I shivered under my elegant jacket.

In the distance, I saw Fabrizio and Tommy, but I couldn't see Jack. "Fabri! Tommy!" I yelled, waving at them as I made my way towards them.

"Rosa!" Fabrizio exclaimed with a wide smile on his face. I grinned back. "Nice to see you, Fabri," I panted, exerting myself with all the running around the ship.

"Rose," Tommy greeted, a common cigarette in his mouth. I nodded my head politely at him. "Have any of you seen Jack?" I asked worriedly.

But no one was able to respond in time as two arms took me from behind and wrapped around my waist, twirling me in the air. I screamed from the unexpected act. "Jack!" I cried.

He put me down and I swirled around, encircling him in my arms with a large hug. Tears pricked at my eyes. "Where have you been? I've been looking all day for you!" It was around four o'clock by the time I had checked the third-class decks.

He kissed my temple. "I'm sorry I got you so worried. I was planning a surprise for you."

"Well, I—" I was about to rant on about how I thought Cal had arrested him, but instead I raised an eyebrow. "A surprise? What for?"

He smiled mischievously at me before winking elusively. "You'll see." He gave me his hand, which I took gratefully, my entire past trauma swept away.

"Where are we going?" I laughed as he pulled me along the corridors of the _Titanic_. We had made many twists and turns, and my side was cramping by that time. Combine that with my previous jog in this labyrinth of a ship, and I was mentally and physically exhausted.

"It's a surprise!" he said back more clearly, like I hadn't heard him the first time. I had to laugh harder from the high energy levels of adrenaline I was feeling, causing a bright smile to form on his face.

"Really!" I huffed as I let go of him and stopped, catching my breath. "I can barely breath!"

He beamed lovingly at me - his breath coming out short, too - took my hand, and pulled me in for a kiss that left me more breathless. "Now will you tell me where we're going?" I asked innocently, batting my eyelashes and playing with his hair.

Jack put his forehead to mine. "Nope." I slapped him playfully on his arms, groaning and pouting like a little girl.

We went down another couple hallways before we stopped, and Jack opened a door. I felt the icy air from outside blow on my face as I stepped out, following him.

It was the bow of the ship. It was a little hazardous, with all those strange ship parts built into the floor, but we managed to get around that and to the very tip. I put my hands on the metallic rail, took a step up, and looked down, red curls blowing around my porcelain face. "Jack!" I exclaimed at the grandeur of it all, my mouth gaping open.

The ship parted the waves into foamy, white bubbles as it sliced through. The ocean bobbed calmly around us, a magnificent blue. The sun was coming close to setting, and stood out right in front of us, its bottom curve still a good ways from the waterline. The sky was a bright hue covered in thick, fluffy clouds.

Jack climbed up behind me and put his arms around my waist from behind, placing his chin on my shoulder. I laughed. "What are you doing?" I turned to him to find our faces romantically close. I giggled again.

He played around with my hands tenderly, our fingers intertwining in the others. A wide smile appeared on my face. How beautiful this all was! Then he began to sing in my ear, a wonderful tune that had been ours since it came out last year. "Come, Josephine, in my flying machine and it's up she goes, up she goes..." I lightly scoffed at his singing voice.

It was all so overwhelming. What's more, when I turned to thank him, his lips were the first things I noticed, and before I could process what was happening, I had pulled him closer so we were in each other's arms, my own lips deeply kissing his.

**Author's Note: It just so happens that one of the most famous scenes depicted in Cameron's film wasn't actually possible. The bow of the ship, which held the giant chains for lowering anchors, the entrance to the cargo hold, and tubs of extra lifejackets, was actually forbidden to walk across. It was for crew use only. And this goes for "I'm the king of the world!" too.**


	15. Ice Warning

**Fun Fact #15: Collision Course**

_**Titanic**_**'s collision with the iceberg can be summarized in three words: thirty-seven seconds. The wireless room had received six ice warnings that day, but the **_**Titanic**_** only picked up speed. The course was tweaked so that they would get to New York sooner, even though it meant traveling through the ice fields. The night was moonless and the sea calm, and the men in the crow's nest, Frederick Fleet and Reginald Lee, didn't have binoculars. By the time the iceberg was sighted, the warning bell was rung; the command "hard-a-starboard" was given. From the time it was spotted to the time it hit, thirty-seven seconds had passed. The time was 11:40 PM. Passengers on the deck say that they believed the iceberg was about one hundred feet tall, a shudder was felt throughout the entire ship, and a sound similar to hundreds of rolling marbles could be heard in the lower decks. The first five out of sixteen compartments were flooding, but no one, not even the crew, knew much about what happened. It was at first passed off as a dropped propeller blade. It wasn't until 12:05 AM that the first-class passengers were alerted, and it wasn't until 1:15 that they finally believed the **_**Titanic**_** was sinking. People speculated afterwards that if the **_**Titanic**_** had hit the iceberg head-on, then the rivets wouldn't have been popped and the ship wouldn't have suffered so much damage. Later the next day, an iceberg was spotted**

**Chapter 14**

**Ice Warning**

It was a cause for concern as ice warning after ice warning came in through the Marconi room. The only reason I would know that was because I wrote a telegram for my family's butler, Charles, to send a private auto to meet me near the crowd of New York Harbor. And for him to also tell no one that I was leaving, or where I was going.

After Jack's arms had gently taken me down from the railing, I had accepted his tight embrace as we fell to the floor, a warm giggle escaping my lips. "I'm sorry!" I exclaimed, my eyes tearing up from the moment. His handsome face was lit up too in laughter, and he helped me up and held me close when he did. I had never been happier.

I stayed in steerage, enjoying my time as a party was held again in the dining saloon, until dinner time approached. I had to go back to my cabin to get some paper to write the telegram, and also to take a few things with me. The _Titanic_ was expected to reach New York in two days' time, so I'm told, and I'm not planning on going back to my old life so soon.

Looking both ways as Jack and I reached the barrier that separated the third class from mingling with the higher classes, I slid open the gate and quickly ushered him to move. I then closed it as fast and quietly as I could before taking his hand and running up an extra couple flights of stairs. When we reached the elevator, we impatiently took it up to B deck, the lift attendant gawking at our intertwined hands the whole time. Reaching our destined floor, we wasted no time and hurried the poor steward to open the gate faster, where we made a mad dash to the double doors that led to the cabins.

Running down the plush hallway, I laughed at how silly we were being. So secretive! It was practically comical! Since when did we care on getting caught, the two good friends we were? When Jack asked me what was so funny, I told him, and we both chuckled as I opened the door, making a face and mocking him. "So serious!" I mumbled, mimicking his voice.

What I saw entering the cabin shocked me to the core, and made my feet jump back on to Jack's toes. "Cal!" I screamed.

He had a sour, triumphant look on his face when he saw us holding hands. I reluctantly let go and courageously took a step toward him. "What are you doing here?" I asked politely. "Shouldn't you be at dinner? I honestly hoped you haven't starved yourself."

What I got in return was a nasty shove by the shoulders, and swear words rambled in my face. I shrieked. When wasn't he in a mood now?

"Don't touch her!" I heard Jack yell furiously, but I didn't feel his warm embrace behind me. Rubbing my aching head and looking up, I saw that the Master-at-Arms had seized him. I gasped, shocked. "Cal, what is going on?"

My mother sent me scornful looks from across the room. Neither seemed to have attended dinner that night, and must've had an early meal, for Mother was dressed in her night robe, and Cal looked ruffled up after being in the smoke room, as was his ritual after dinner every night. _What time is it? _I thought, looking up at the clock.

It was ten o'clock! I swore to myself as I realized what had happened. Jack and I, being in a hysterical frenzy as the party in third class continued (and mugs of rum were being passed around), hadn't really paid attention to the time as we thought we had. What had felt like two hours had been almost five, and now we were in big trouble.

Cal smirked. "Two things very dear to me have disappeared this evening," he explained to not only me, but the whole room. I stared at Jack desperately, praying that whatever will happen, he would be safe. The black eye Cal had given him seemed to stick out, and my stomach began to clench and churn inside me, eating me up. "Now that one is back-" He sent a glare in my direction in a way that made my already sick stomach take a turn for the worse "-I think I know where to find the other." My throat was dry and tight. I swallowed hard, my Adam's apple bobbing in complete understanding. "Search him!" he commanded.

"No!" I yelled through clenched teeth, grabbing his arm forcefully. "Cal, you listen to _me_ now! Whatever game you're playing-"

"Is this it, sir?"

My head snapped to see the Master-at-Arms, who pulled out a large diamond ring from Jack's shirt pocket. "I gave that to him!" I yelled in frustration.

Cal looked absolutely shocked. "What?" he exclaimed, his impeccable plan probably foiled.

I glared at him. I couldn't believe what his real personality was like! "You heard me, Cal," I spat in his face. "I gave that to him a few days ago... After realizing living with you would not be my perfect fantasy."

I walked up to the steward and showed him my palm, and he hesitantly dropped the ostentatious piece of jewelry. I walked back to Cal and threw it at him in a rage, releasing an ugly scream. Not only was I furious, I was hysterical again; the past few days have been to much. But one thing was quite clear about my feelings for Cal: I _loathed_ his entire soul, his entire body! He was the most immature man I have ever met, and not to mention the oldest I've ever courted.

As I lectured him, I didn't take the time to notice Lovejoy evasively walk behind Jack and the Master-at-Arms, who were all stunned in their spots by the words that came out of my flapping mouth. When I was done, Cal, stunned by my fiery wit, cleared his throat and instructed, "Continue, gentlemen."

I groaned at his absurdity. Jack would never intend to steal and-

"What have we here?"

My stomach, which was so tight and jumbled before, fell to the very bottom like a falling stone. My face paled. My mouth formed into an O-shape; incoherent, quiet gasps came out of my dry lips. "H-he couldn't have," I said speechlessly. "I was with him the whole time, this is absurd!"

In the steward's hand was the diamond necklace Cal kept so preciously taken care of in the purser's office. It was called the Heart of the Ocean, and it derived from French royalty. Cal had bought it for me as a wedding present and kept it safely hidden. There was no way Jack could have found it, especially since he wasn't allowed up here. It was worth millions.

He swore out loud. "Don't you believe it, Rose. Don't!"

I looked at him, confused. My stomach turned sour. Jack would never... I've known him for ten years, and he never, ever tried to take our money, even when it was right in front of his face. It shouldn't be different now... But there I was, completely unsure on how the diamond got there in the first place. I didn't know what to believe. All I knew was how I forgot it even existed at all, and that it was kept with the purser who was only accessible by the first class.

The world started spinning. "B-but…," I tried to say. "No... He would never..." And then Cal whispered something in my ear that just made me snap. I had no idea how to react; everything was bubbling up inside me – the engagement, the voyage, the confession, the escape, the ice warnings – so I did the one thing I could do for certain without making another life-altering mistake: I screamed and locked myself in the bathroom.

"Because of the impossibility, it makes it even more likely," he had viciously spat in my ear.

"Rose!" I heard Jack yell pleadingly. "Rose, please! You know me!" I could hear Cal angrily shouting at Jack and the Master-at-Arms.

Loud sobs of confusion and betrayal blocked out my hearing, and I vomited expectantly. I was a stupid girl, and I always have been. I was such a mess, I could barely stand. And at that moment, all my weaknesses connected to each other, bringing me down with them.

...

"What's going on here?" Mr. Andrews demanded as he entered cabin B52. The scene taking place in front of him was almost too unrealistic. There was Cal, bellowing at Jack, who was trying to fight back but was retrained by two stewards who worked for the Master-at-Arms. They were doing their best to take control of the situation and trying to stop the commotion, but when two men fought over a female, it was quite hard to stop them until somebody won. Then there was Ruth, banging on the bathroom door and calling her daughter's name. He could faintly hear Rose's sobs from inside. "Everyone calm down, please!" No one seemed to hear him. "That is an order!" he bellowed, taking full control of the ruckus.

Everyone slowly stopped, even Rose's crying. "Now, would someone _please_ tell me what exactly is going on?"

Every man and woman started speaking up at the same time, trying to tell their side of the story. Mr. Andrews called silence again. "Mr. Hockley," he said, taking a seat on the nearest chair. Cal sat down across from him.

"Thomas, my friend, surely you would agree that, against these circumstances, a thief should rightfully be punished."

Mr. Andrews eyed Jack with confusion. _Jack? A thief? I never got the impression. _Jack glared at Cal with a red fire burning in his eyes. He sighed, not knowing what to believe. He had run into Jack when visiting Rose that morning, but they only shared a few words. From the look of things, they had known each other for quite a long time. But he had to cut down to the facts: He only knew Jack from that one dinner a couple nights ago.

But that doesn't mean there wasn't any hope left. "Continue," Mr. Andrews beckoned.

Cal smirked. "Certainly." Then he cleared his throat and took his time by taking a sip of brandy. "Now, this afternoon, on my way back from a fine luncheon, I called my maid to summon Rose so I could have a small chat with her. She claimed that Rose hadn't been around all day. Worried as I was, I called the Master-at-Arms to take care of the situation. They studied the room and looked to see if anything was out of place. Perhaps, I told them, someone close to Rose, like Mr. Dawson here, had deceived her. What we found were two things: a missing Rose and a missing diamond necklace.

"My suspicions cleared, I also realized that Rose hadn't been wearing her engagement ring the last time I saw her. Concerned as I was, I tried to enjoy my dinner, and then Ruth and I waited with impatience to see if Rose would show up.

"When she did, she claimed that she had given Jack the ring, but knew nothing of the necklace, which was safely tucked away with the purser. Therefore, with his penniless blood, he is a sneaky thief. And though my dear Rose cares much for him, nothing can get him out of this punishment. Now, what about you, Thomas? Don't you think Mr. Dawson needs a break from my fiancée?"

Mr. Andrews sighed and sat back, looking at Cal, then at Jack, and back again. The situation was childish and dramatically exaggerated. But theft was not allowed on any ship of his. "Mr. Hockley, I believe we should hear Jack's side of the story."

The look in his blue eyes turned from despair and rage to excitement. "Thank you, Mr. Andrews. You see, Rose gave me the ring a couple days ago, and I remember setting down my jacket near the stairs in the third-class dining room. That gave perfect access for anyone, especially with Rose and I distracted—"

"Doing what?" Cal mumbled disgustingly.

Jack glared at him. "None of your business. Anyway, I think Cal or that manservant guy or _someone _put it in my jacket while I wasn't—"

"Enough!" Cal yelled. "I think we've heard enough of your story."

Lovejoy silently snickered behind him. So no one had seen him after all, but was still pretty believable.

"Mr. Hockley, before we take this irrationally, I think we should—" Mr. Andrews was stopped by Jack and Cal's bickering. Angered, he demanded, "Take him away!"

"Wait!" Jack exclaimed, his heart throbbing as he started to be dragged away. "Can't I just speak to Rose for one second?"

"Now, Mr. Dawson-" Ruth interrupted as she joined the argument.

"Please!" he begged. Ruth took a step back, intimidated by his strong tone. She wasn't the only one unsure of what to do, and slowly coiled.

"Both of them," Mr. Andrews added more silently. The victorious smirk on Cal's face was wiped right off. He stared at Jack, whose distressed expression showed much love and kindness to the fair Rose, and shock at what he had said.

"_What?_" Cal exclaimed furiously as his wrists were brought behind his back. The stewards, however, were having a hard time finding another set of handcuffs and yelled orders between each other.

"Mr. Hockley," Mr. Andrews began very patiently, "I visited Rose this morning in the infirmary. That's some damage a person can do." He glanced at Jack's worried expression and back to Cal's distorted features. Inside the bathroom door, Rose's heart swelled with hope. So he had understood the glaze in her eyes after all. "But crime is something we don't allow on this ship. Not even money could take the law away." He waved his hand to end the conversation there, but Jack squirmed away from his bonds.

"Mr. Andrews!" he said over the large racket that had started up again between Rose's relieved tears, Ruth's desperate cries, and Cal's enraged commands to let him go. "May I please speak to Rose?"

Mr. Andrews sighed, knowing very little of his connection with Rose except for his suspicions. But he had sympathy for Jack, and he was a fair man. "Very well," he proclaimed. After gently pushing aside a frantic Ruth, he went over and knocked on the bathroom door. "Miss Rose, may you come out, please?"

...

I didn't bother to answer him. I was so broken down into tears of respite, for I knew Jack couldn't have done it. Has Cal finally been recognized for the cruel, childish man he was? But I didn't want any part in this argument until my ex-fiancé was gone.

Another knock. "Miss Rose?" I bit my lip to calm down my sobs. A couple tears slipped.

"Rose!" I heard Jack's voice say in a very desperate, pleading tone. He probably thought I didn't believe him.

"I'm sorry, Jack, but she doesn't want to come out," I heard Mr. Andrews say through the muffling door.

Then another fight pursued. It sounded like chaos had unexpectedly erupted. I could hear many voices talking at once:

"Mr. Hockley, stop this madness at once!"

"If you would just calm down-!"

"Leave her alone or-!"

"Quiet! I said quiet! You-!"

I put my ear against the wooden door, and the noise which reached my ears made my whole body turn cold. My insides sunk to my feet. More vomit could be felt coming up my burning throat, but I swallowed it. There was the snap of a gun being prepared to shoot, and then the roar of a gunshot. I went limp. Everything was silent.

I slowly opened the door a crack, my breathing coming out heavily and irregular. "W-what happened?" I begged, but no one answered my beseeching words.

I saw the Master-at-Arms trying to hold Cal down, who was getting a gun forcefully pulled out of his hand. Mother had both of her palms over her mouth, her face ghostly white; her eyes stared at a figure slouched on the floor. Lovejoy stood in the background, trying to be oblivious to the murderous scene.

I exited the bathroom, and that's when I saw him. "No," I whispered, falling to the ground; my knees were no longer able to support me. My mind turned frantic as I screamed, "No!"

Jack wasn't dead, but he did look absolutely dreadful. I took in his pale face and bloody hands, and knew what happened. Cal, out of immature rage and jealousy, had shot Jack. I wrapped Jack in my arms, not caring that his blood soaked my favorite dress. I was completely to blame with my ridiculous decisions. If I hadn't given Jack my ring in a moment of pure bliss and promise, then this never would have happened. If I had kept my eyes open for evasive people like Lovejoy, then the necklace would never have gotten in his pocket – and he never would have been framed.

I looked up at Cal with eyes as sharp and hateful as daggers. "_How could you?_" I yelled. Was this even reality anymore? It was simply madness exploding in this jumbled world of mine. A man his age, you'd expect him to have better control.

I turned my attention back to Jack. "Rose..." he managed to say, but it was hard for him.

"Shhh," I beckoned. "Don't speak."

He let his hand fall from his side, and I could see where the bullet had sliced through. It missed fatal impact, but it still sliced the skin and latched on. I felt like throwing up again, but instead I took action and told Mr. Andrews, "Fetch the doctor."

He left quickly with a bob of his head, scaring the dumbfounded stewards blocking the door with a booming voice. "Move!"

I ripped the thickest part of my dress off and applied pressure on the sliced hole. I could feel his blood soak through the fabric and stain my fingers, the blood we had always shared since we were little kids.

I wrapped my arms around Jack's neck and put my head on his shoulder. "You'll be all right." I tried to ignore his gasps of pain as Cal was finally taken away, his ruthless demands becoming harder and harder to hear. My mother stumbled backwards, collapsed on the couch, and watched her daughter close her eyes and whisper softly, "I'm here now."

...

The doctor had shaken his head in total disbelief. "It looks like karma has caught up," he remarked unhappily when he saw me. I explained the story as best I could, but it brought tears to my eyes. I was just glad Cal was gone and in his rightful place.

Now Jack was sitting up and feeling better an hour later as I sat at his bedside in the ship's infirmary for the second time. A cool night breeze blew through the open porthole. I brushed aside his overgrown hair lovingly. "I'm sorry about everything, Jack."

He smiled at me and took a hold of my hand. He kissed it. "Lovejoy put it in my pocket, you know." He rolled his eyes like he was back to normal. He always made the worst of situations seem like a comedic jest.

Small tears of guilt pricked my eyes as I nodded and laughed weakly. "I know." I sniffled before deciding to kick up my legs and lie down next to his undamaged side. He then pulled me closer to him, and I curled up next to his warm body. I sighed contently. "I wish every day could be like this."

"What, me getting shot?" he joked.

"No!" There it was again, his consistent jokes. I guess I should be glad his sense of humor wasn't injured like his side. I looked into his soulful blue eyes. "I mean falling asleep every night and waking up every morning next to you."

I closed my eyes and let him kiss my forehead before lying my exhausted head on his chest and falling into a deep sleep.

…

I woke up at a quarter past eleven. This made my abyssal dreams literally a short nap. I caught a glimpse of Jack's peacefully sleeping face. I gently brushed aside a strand of loose hair and quickly left so I could write and send the telegram to Charles.

Now here I was, waiting for wireless officer Harold Bride to accept my telegram. "But I need this sent _now_ so he could get everything ready by Tuesday!" I insisted.

"I'm sorry, miss, but no more telegrams are allowed," Bride explained, getting nervous by my clear frustration.

I sighed through my nose and dug through my purse. I added a whole extra pound to the price. "Will you send it for me now?" I blinked flirtatiously as his face turned a bright red and he took the money and telegram away. "It's rather late," he mumbled under his breath as a farewell. He knew I was engaged, of course, and he must know who I was engaged to exactly. (Not that _that _ended well.)

That was how I learned about the ice warnings, as Mr. Phillips aggressively complained about them to himself at the strange device, his fingers tapping out a message.

The night air was frigid and miserable, and I couldn't wait to go back inside and into Jack's arms.

Now it was 11:30PM on a moonless Sunday night. Everything was still, even the ocean itself. The stars were bright in the sky, and I remembered that day many months ago when I made Jack promise to take me away with him. How so very long ago that seemed.

However, right when I took a hold of the doorknob to the infirmary, there was a quiver. It got a little more aggressive before silencing. It sounded like glass balls were rolling around in the walls and bumping into each other. I blinked, not knowing what was going on, but it didn't seem right.

_What just happened? _

I was oblivious to the crashing sound in the infirmary. My mind was still wondering about the hasty quake.

All of a sudden, the door I was holding on to opened, shocking me. Jack appeared in the doorframe, pulling a shirt over his bare torso with the strong bandage wrapped around his waist. "Come on," he commanded, taking my hand. "We have to get to the decks, _now_."

"Why?" I asked, bile rising in my throat. I'd never seen Jack so serious, so concerned, and so…_afraid__._ "Did you feel that shake a moment ago?"

Jack didn't respond, and when he took my shoulders I realized he was shaking with fright. His contagious fear overcame me. "Rose, the ship's hit an iceberg. We need to know how serious this is, and if it is, I need you to be safe."

I could barely swallow the giant lump that had lodged itself in my throat. My face blanched and my stomach twisted into knots. I wanted to ask him how he knew, but I got my answer: There, in the infirmary, the porthole was torn clean off, and a pile of ice lay gleaming on the floor from the starry sky.


	16. Panic Stricken

**Fun Fact #16: A Starry Night**

**When Titanic was re-released in 3D on April fourth this year, director James Cameron said that besides cleaning it up and making it shine, all the frames were left untouched. That is, except for one minor detail that many of you probably couldn't care less about. American astronomer Neil deGrasse Tyson pointed out that the pattern of the stars near the end of the movie where Rose is on her back waiting for help was wrong. After giving Cameron the exact location of each star at that time, the changes were made.**

**Chapter 15**

**Panic Stricken**

My whole body shook, a shiver making its way down my spine. _Ice_. That could only mean one thing: The ship's struck an iceberg.

But I couldn't just jump to conclusions, could I? There must be a much more logical explanation for all of this, I'm sure of it. Jack was hurt, and he needed to rest… Yet, here he was in front of me, anxious lines appearing in his handsome face.

The ice warnings from before lingered in my thudding skull. My mouth was dry and incoherent gasps came out of my throat. The last thing we needed was yet _another _thing to worry about, but it was happening.

As Jack pulled me along, worry started to numb my own mind. Biting my lip, I gently took a hold of his arm to stop him. "Jack," I pleaded, placing my hand on his injured side with much tenderness. "You're hurt."

He took my fingers in his calloused ones and calmly rubbed my skin. He put his forehead against mine, and I looked deep into his eyes. I was confused, and of course I was scared. Seeing his blue eyes lock into mine reminded me of a time not so long ago from where we're standing now, when my life was a teenage crisis from what I remember…

…

_My body shook with absolute pain. I thought my heart would never feel again. It was all too much for my fifteen-year-old self. Could life ever stop playing games with me? It was pure torture!_

_It felt like years, yet it had only been a couple months. Father had fallen gravely ill, and just then, at that very moment, I was informed that his generous heart had stopped, and he was gone. With his soul, he took my life of happiness. I could just feel Mother's greedy eyes on my prickling skin. _

_I couldn't remember anything since Trudy had sympathetically walked into my room and told me, with tears in her eyes, that Father had passed on. I was still hunched over, my forehead pathetically on my knees as I sat in bed for hours on end in fetal position. My body shook with sobs; I felt like my face had always been wet and bitter._

_My stomach ached with that horrible word known as suffering, its acid rising and wanting to pierce its protective layering. Let me have an ulcer for all I care. Maybe that's what I needed to take the pain in my heart away. Every breath I took was sporadic and, gazing at the book on my nightstand, made me look like the Tin Man who needed to be oiled. My eyelashes were smothered with tears and looked clumpy and droopy._

_There came a small, respectful knock at the door. I sniffed pathetically. "Come in," I croaked, my voice cracking from strain._

_Jack's face appeared in the crevice of the opened door. A small shimmer of hope found its way to my shattered heart. "Y-yes? What are you doing here?" My shaking hands grabbed for my handkerchief, which was way on the other side of the nightstand next to _The Wizard of Oz_._

_He came dashing to my side, nervously handing me the silky cloth. I peered at him curiously, my nose dripping and sniffling. "Is something wrong?" I asked him, blowing my nose noisily._

_He shook his head without saying a word, his thumbs anxiously playing with each other. "I don't believe you," I replied to his quick gesture._

_Jack took a large gulp of air and sighed. "Rose, your mother sent me here to check on you." _

J'ai complètement oublié! _I thought, as I taught myself, in rapid French. I completely forgot that Mother had let Jack visit today._

_My face hardened. "Oh, forget Mother! If she couldn't come here herself, we might as well forget she exists, am I right?" I rubbed my dry, tear-stained eyes. "Blast!" I muttered under my breath as smeared makeup appeared on the back of my hand._

"_Here!" Jack exclaimed, grabbing my wrist. He pulled out a wet cloth that had been wrung out and started to tenderly cleanse my face. _

_I didn't look him in the eye. I couldn't. He was being too kind to me. When will I ever see that kindness again? That light-hearted, serious tone and those gleaming, caring eyes?_

_I felt the softness of the towel slowly and affectionately move down my cheek. I dared myself to look up, and was greeted by his tender eyes of crystal blue. I wanted to yelp or cry. The last time I had seen that expression, it was on my father's face and it was a sign of love._

_I gulped and blinked my eyes innocently. How much I wanted to kiss him right now… What would it feel like to get a peck on the lips from Jack Dawson? Did he even feel the same way? _

_I smiled gratefully instead, my green irises looking away from his tempting gaze. "Thank you," I whispered._

"_You know I'm always there for you, Rose," he replied in a hushed tone._

_I moved my head reluctantly upwards to see his face. What came to mind made the breath stick in my throat. _

_Yes, a kiss from Jack Dawson would be something quite splendid._

…

If the ship _was_ sinking, which it probably wasn't, would that mean my new life might be destroyed? But I have worked so hard on getting this way, dodging the obstacles and everything!

I sighed and fell into his arms. "I'm so scared, Jack," I said, my voice coming out in swift, choked sobs. "What's happening?

Jack pulled me closer, his face in my red curls. He was honest as he said, "I don't know, Rose. I don't know."

…

Minutes went by; nothing happened. Jack and I had stood in the same hallway for twenty minutes, and still nothing wrong was reported. Not one steward passed by. It felt like the tiny city on the _Titanic_ had disappeared.

Yet, as we made our way back to my cabin to see if Mother had heard anything, something seemed _wrong_. The floor beneath our feet was no longer moving; all was still. Not one sound came from below. I though, as I connected all these sensory details, that the ship has stopped moving. But, of course, I had no clue what was really going on. A migraine slowly sunk into my brain, making it tremor with frustration. I _wish _I knew.

I stopped in the B deck hallway, my hand still in Jack's. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, feeling Jack's arms wrap around me and passionately begin to kiss my face. My forehead, my eyelid, my cheek, my lips… Now, he felt _right_. Knowing my best friend still loved me as much as I loved him made me forget about the confusion of tonight.

I heard a door click open but didn't stop our embrace until a pair of forceful hands pulled us apart. My eyes snapped open and I gasped, my mouth gaping open. "Come with me," Cal hissed, taking my arm. Jack followed behind me, too dazed to realize the situation.

As the door closed behind us, I rapidly barked, "I thought you were arrested!" But that didn't matter right now, especially if this would turn out to be a life-or-death situation, and I didn't wait to hear his response. "Did you hear that noise a while ago? I think it-"

_Slap!_ I felt my neck cramp and my cheek burn. Did he really just _slap _me? After what was going on? After what he did _before_?

Has he not learned his lesson? Something serious has most likely happened, though I admit I don't believe it. But what else could explain the ice in the infirmary, the deadly silence of the ship?

My face hardened as I wiped the hair out of my eyes, meeting Cal's threatening stare. I pushed him into the wall with all the anger I had within me. I swore at the top of my lungs and said, "I'm through with being polite!" And I slapped him across the face. "Do you see how that feels?" Tears pricked my eyes, ones of anger, frustration, and fear all mixed together.

Cal was stunned; Jack was shocked. Mother walked into the room in her nightgown and robe and pulled me away from the violent look in Cal's glazed eyes. "Rose, what are you doing?"

I didn't answer her. Instead, I let out a pathetic sob, put my hand over my mouth, and ran into Jack's arms. "I'm leaving," I finally confessed for all to hear. "Jack, please. Take me away from her."

Cal was making incoherent noises and Mother gaped at us as we exited the cabin. I found myself able to smile gratefully at my savior. "Jack, it means so much to me for you to do this," I said as we started to walk away from my old life.

My world suddenly felt…changed. I could picture all those inane, frivolous parties, debuts, and dinners disappearing in my mind. All those dresses, corsets, and extravagant jewelry fading in front of my eyes. And the house I grew up in, where I met Jack, slowly crumbling into a mound of bricks, its objective accomplished. I could picture my father looking down at me, smiling with approval of my choice. A content smile appeared on my lips, and I knew that I will no longer be the first-class girl I always was, but never wanted to be.

"To do what?" he asked, snapping me out of my reverie, a mischievous smile playing on his face.

I slapped him playfully on the arm. "To set me free, in the way I've always dreamed. You've saved me, Jack, in more than one way. And I thank you for that." We stopped at the Grand Staircase, both of my hands in his.

He grinned at me, a small chuckle escaping his lips. "You're welcome, Rose." He leaned in to kiss me, but we were interrupted by a bustling steward who inadvertently bumped into me, causing me to cry out from shock and stumble into Jack's arms. "I'm so sorry, miss!" he exclaimed, helping me. I shooed him off, gracefully thanking him with a nod of my head.

"Excuse me, sir, but while you're here, do you mind my asking you one simple question?" Jack asked - quite professionally, may I add.

The steward looked panicked. My smile faded, and my eyes landed on the lifejackets in his arms. "Please, sir, madam, get these lifebelts on and report to the deck immediately!" And then he was gone in a flash, two abandoned lifejackets in our arms.

My face was pale, and Jack's eyes were glazed over. We knew what was happening without having to ask. We saw the ice, we felt the cold shutter. My throat suddenly felt dry. I knew that there weren't enough lifeboats for everyone aboard. Many people were going to die tonight, unless help was found fast. I looked up at my Jack, and my lip quivered. The rule was always there: Women and children first. What was I to do if I lost him? How could I ever survive?

I took an irregular breath and choked out, "We should go to the lifeboats, Jack." He nodded, protectively taking my hand and pulling me up the stairs.

I was suddenly aware of all the first-class passengers in the Grand Staircase. Stewards with lifebelts were everywhere. How had I not noticed this before? Jack unlocking my cage must've blinded my feathery eyes.

"Jack! Rose!"

There was Margaret Brown, calling us over with her jolly spirit. The smile on her face showed that she knew nothing was wrong. Right when she saw our expressions, though, it quickly faltered.

I didn't give her time to ask any questions. "Maggie, if you see my mother, tell her she needs to get into a lifeboat. This ship is sinking," I explained, tears pricking at my eyes. "And please, get into one yourself!"

She smiled sadly at me, as though this would be the last time she'll ever see me. The spine-shivering thing was, it could be. "I'll wait right here for Ruth," she said, not taking her eyes off us, even after a passenger bumped into her. (She _was_ wearing a rather large fur coat.)

"Thank you," I whispered, pulling her into a quick hug as a silent goodbye before Jack took my hand and we started moving.

Panic constricted my throat. Everything seemed to slow down, and I could make out Jack's hair bouncing around as we dodged groups of calm people to get to the boat deck. People made comments on how implausible the whole situation was, how cold it had gotten outside, and wondering what in the world was going on.

I could hear my rapid breathing growing louder and louder. My heart pounded furiously in my chest and the blood was drained from my face. That night, on the early morning of April fifteenth, the glorious wood carving of Honor and Glory Crowning Time haunted me. The hands pointed in different directions, but I could read the roman numerals clearly: 12:10AM. Though it was impossible and preposterous, I swore I could feel the floor beneath my feet shift.

I had seen the ice and I knew the facts. Half the people on this ship could die. And I knew at that moment that it was every man for himself. The _Titanic_ was, with no doubt, sinking.


	17. Unwilling to Leave

**Fun Fact #17: Launching the Boats**

**Out of the sixteen lifeboats and four collapsibles, many of them were launched half full. Once the crew started loading the boats at 12:25AM, many people still don't believe or even know what was happening. The first lifeboat, lifeboat seven, is launched with twenty-eight aboard, though it has enough for sixty-five. Next comes lifeboat five and lifeboat three. Lifeboat one leaves with the fewest amount of people – twelve passengers and crew for a boat built for forty. After that, at 1:15, the **_**Titanic **_**is visibly sinking and panic starts to spread. Lifeboat nine, lifeboat twelve, lifeboat thirteen, and then collapsible C – which held the prominent J. Bruce Ismay, who would later be criticized for his actions for the rest of his life. Lifeboat fifteen came close to crushing lifeboat thirteen until it was saved by cutting the ropes. Lifeboat two, lifeboat four, collapsible D. Collapsibles A and B didn't even make it, having been capsized by the rushing water, but they left passengers able to cling on to them. One of the most romantic and grandest stories takes place during the loading of the lifeboats, and that's between Macy's department store owners Ida and Isidor Straus. She refused to leave her husband, and they settled on deck chairs awaiting their fate together. Her specific words were: "We have been living together for many years. Where you go, I go." **

**Chapter 16**

**Unwilling to Leave**

On the boat deck, it was more than just chilly. It was absolutely _freezing_. Never before had I felt something so puncturing on my skin…and when that mixed with my fear, all I could feel was the prickling of fair complexion.

It was half past midnight. We'd been waiting on the boat deck for more than twenty minutes. The funnels made an absolutely dreadful noise, but stopped eventually. Its unwanted presence was replaced by the majestic sound of the ship's band playing lively ragtime music; it reminded me unpleasantly of how I had ignored them most of the time. They did play "The Beautiful Blue Danube" quite exquisitely. Now I wish I had enjoyed it all more than I had.

Meanwhile, officers frantically prepared the lifeboats for launch. People of the more important variety were filing on the deck, and I stared at them with disbelief. What gave man the right to save those with money, but not those who actually worked for theirs? I didn't notice the warm tear that rolled down my cheek until Jack's calloused hand brushed it away.

I looked up into his eyes for the first time since what felt like a lifetime. Of course I was frightened. I knew that the lifeboat capacity was only for less than half—not enough for the approximate two-thousand souls aboard. My breathing came out in constricted rasps, and I fell into Jack's comforting arms, hoping it wasn't the last time.

Lifeboat seven was currently being loaded. Jack was not hesitant in finding me a place right away. He was aware of the situation, too—that only the fortunate would make it out alive. What became a sailing luxury was now a terrifying race for survival. For the water was below freezing, and I will later learn that it was twenty-eight degrees Fahrenheit exactly – enough to kill you within a few minutes.

I had felt the paralyzing cold only once in my life, and of course it was a time with Jack. The memory came back to me, and it took all my strength not to give up then and there that my best friend and lover would not be those fewer fortunate…

…

"_You're next!" I cried as I scrambled through the snow after giving Jack a playful poke on the shoulder. Tag wasn't the best child's game to play, but it at least got you warmed up, especially with the frigid English air._

_The DeWitt Bukaters and their loyal servants were visiting their house in England, in one of the most beautiful cities in the world that's been compared to Paris, New York, and so many others—London, I had narrated in my head. With the fresh fall of pure white snow, my nine-year-old self could barely contain my excitement._

"_Jack!" I cried as the maid struggled to pull on my winter jacket with the soft, warm faux fur. She tried to shush me, saying it was not right of a young lady to address her servants as such, but Jack had appeared anyway, timidly holding a feather duster in his hand. I knew right away he had been dusting the many mahogany furnishings, especially after their prolonged use._

_I smiled affectionately. To me, Jack wasn't a servant for my family, but a friend. My only friend, at that. Being homeschooled over winter break by a cranky governess was not my taste, and in a few years later I would be transferred to a private school in Paris, but that's a story for another time._

_I jumped off the stool the maid had made me stand on so she could properly dress me for the climate. "I want you to come with me outside," I said, referring to the twelve-year-old boy informally. "Even if you complain about 'being too old' for tag."_

_Jack grinned thankfully, and was about to say something but sneezed instead. _

_I laughed. "You're welcome!"_

_Now I screamed in enjoyable fear as Jack came racing after me, my small feet pulling up snow from the back. The hem of my dress was soaked, but I pretended not to notice the numbing cold. I had stockings on under my many skirts and a pair of rough boots to keep me dry and protected. Why should I worry about frostbite?_

_I could see the maid watching me nervously from the window. I waved as a snowball came flying my way. _She's worried about my exercise- _was all I was able to get out in my head before the wet flakes hit me._

_I shivered and exclaimed, "Hey!" to the laughing adolescent. I stuck my tongue out childishly before resuming the game, but this time with my own evil twist—a snowball fight._

_After a few exhausting games, I was ready to go inside and warm up with some hot chocolate, but Jack pulled at my mitten hands. "Come on!" he whispered, tugging for my numb body to move. "The maid's no longer at the window-" I looked to confirm his theory "-and there's a lake just around the corner. Frozen solid! You did want me to show you how to ice fish, right?"_

_I gulped and laughed nervously. "Jack, we probably shouldn't…," I started, but my fight was useless: We were already halfway to the solidified body of water._

_As we approached it, the scenery looked like a winter wonderland: the trees were sprinkled with fresh snow, icicles hanging from their bare branches; the ground was paved with soft snow, no footprints in sight; the air was crisp and cool, each breath we exhaled suspended in the frigidness._

_Yet, when we took a couple steps out on to the lake, a sudden discomfort overcame me. It wasn't until I fell in, my wet, heavy clothing pulling me down, that I realized Death was merciless, and struggling, after a while, was no use. _

_And the water. Frostbite indeed! Jack had dragged me out before I could freeze, but not quick enough for me to not experience the pure coldness of it. I was a shivering, paralyzed, shocked lump; and Jack had carried me all the way home, screaming for help the whole way._

…

If only Fate could be more merciful this time. He was lucky then; I was the one who fell in. But this wasn't some frozen lake. This was the North Atlantic, and survival only lasted from a few minutes to half an hour at the most.

And they had the nerve to call this ship unsinkable! What a total lie! "God Himself could not sink this ship"? They had doomed us all from the beginning!

The population of the line for the first lifeboat launch was slowly decreasing of its women and children. I saw, with horrific disbelief reflecting in my bulging eyes, John Jacob Astor, the richest man on the ship, be declined a seat into the lifeboat. And then I saw Mr. Guggenheim walk by, muttering something about going down as a gentleman. But as he said that, I could pinpoint the uncertainty in his voice. It was so early to tell if the ship was sinking, even _I_ wasn't so sure yet!

Deep down, though, in my heart and mind, I _knew _that something wasn't right either way, sinking or not...

It was too quiet. If you drowned out the voices of the scoffing first-class people who shrugged off everything as a precaution and the crew yelling orders, there would be only one thing left: Silence. Since the ship set sail, the soft hum of the engines kept everything alive. Now, there was nothing.

The ship's horn blasted again, and I jumped in fright; the ear-splitting sound was terribly deafening. Jack put his arms around me as I put my hands over my ears, showing that he had been frightened (and protective) too. My heart melted in its frozen spot, and I put my hands over his on my waist. I loved him, and I feared for him. The women and children rule was not, exactly, open for suggestions, and example shown by J.J. Astor, the richest man on the ship, himself.

That's when I noticed lifeboat seven descending on its davits with only – I counted out loud quietly to myself, astounded – twenty-eight aboard! My mouth gaped open in a confused O. "What is the meaning of this, Jack?" I asked, but the question was mainly for myself. "These lifeboats could hold sixty-five men!" I remembered the conversations I've had with Mr. Andrews at dinner; my questions, and his answers.

"It's all right, Rose. We'll find another one."

I squeezed out of his arms, tears slipping down my cheeks. I was mourning already for people who had not yet died. "No, it's not all right!" I cried. Doing the math in my head, I said, in a quieter voice, "That means thirty-seven lives—gone!"

There was nothing to comfort me. I was cold, exhausted, and worried out of my mind, and all I wanted to do was curl up and pretend this was just a dream. My lip trembling, I whimpered, "I want to go home, Jack."

In retrospect, it was stupid of me to be so maudlin when I had the luxury of just waltzing up and being taken into a lifeboat. But now I knew how the married women felt, how they didn't want to leave their husbands behind. It was all just a matter of time before the truth would be revealed.

A distress rocket fired and lit up the sky behind us, exploding in the still air. We were all alone.

Jack took my head in his hands and pulled me into a hug. I knew he had wanted me to look into his eyes, but I just couldn't. I breathed in his familiar scent and confessed, "I'm not leaving without you."

I felt a small, warm splash on the top of my head, and my eyes widened in shock. "I know, Rose," I heard Jack say, his voice cracked and full of emotion. "I won't leave you, I promise."

My heartbeat quickened as fast as it had slowed. I didn't have to look up to know that my Jack, strong and soothing, was crying.

The scenario of death was clear in both of our minds. We either made it out together, or without one or the other. If that was the case, then the living might as well die to be with the dead; that was how strong of a passion I had in my heart for Jack.

I pulled away, feeling like an idiot for being so weak and vulnerable, and looked into Jack's wet eyes. His dazzling yet sad blue irises had only shed a few tears for me and himself, but that was enough for me to know that the situation was worse than we thought. Jack never cried, and that's what brought me to really understanding that this moment forth was truly life-or-death, with each other or without one another.

My blue-green eyes were wet also, but I sniffled a tiny bit and wiped the tears away. I could feel my voice shaking, but I firmly told him, "We can't just give up like this, Jack. We have to be strong, or eventually one of us would give up." And then I had kissed his warm lips, an action that felt like the last time had been ages ago. With a small smile on both of our lips, we took each other's hand and looked for the next launching lifeboat; the one right next to us, lifeboat five, was way too crowded.

That's when Jack realized something, however, and that realization grasped me into complete idiocy. "Fabrizio and Tommy," he said to me, and I saw the concern in this turn of events. Just before we had been thinking of staying and trying to survive together, and yet we had forgotten another important factor: the lives of our friends.

A hand flew to my trembling mouth. "Oh my God!" I whispered, fear enclosing me again.

Jack shook his head, his eyes telling me that what we had to do was risky, but had to be done. "We can't just leave them there. I haven't seen any steerage passenger since this whole thing started."

The hand slowly left my face and I reluctantly nodded, sternly looking into Jack's scared and determined expression. _We have to at least know where they are. _"You don't thing they're being…trapped, do you?" I spoke reluctantly, speaking the horrific possibility. He just shrugged like he didn't want to believe it, and I took his hand as we walked aft and entered the second-class stairway, the easy path forward being blocked by the crew.

We had to go below…and I'm not even certain that we'll be back.


	18. Below Decks

**Fun Fact #18: Lock the Gates!**

**In James Cameron's film, the steerage are shown being locked below decks. How much of this is actually true? Some crew members stationed at their posts locked the gates and waited for further instructions while others let women and children up. The gates were in place to keep the classes separated and they were indeed locked, meaning that only someone with a key would be able to get through. Due to poor communication from the upper decks, the deadly situation was never made clear, and in the end the third-class passengers were left to fend for themselves. Also, most of them were immigrants and didn't speak English, so that left many of them pretty much clueless. They were basically told to stay down there until further instruction, but it doesn't mean they were trapped.**

**Chapter 17**

**Below Decks**

As we scrambled down to the entrance on C deck, our hearts pounding in adrenaline, uncertainty, and dread, all we could think about were the possible outcomes that will be revealed after tonight. Would our love suffice and we'll both make it out alive? Or would our destinies shatter, and one of us would end up frozen with a broken heart? A tear slowly slid down my cheek as the reality of the situation slapped me full in the face.

In frustrated sorrow, I tugged at Jack's hand when we reached the depth of E deck. "Jack," I whispered, my voice strained and parched. I tried to stay calm in the eyes of disaster, but my blue-green irises watered to the point that I had to look away and sob pathetically. I expected Jack's arms to go around me and comfort me, but for once that was not the case.

Jack's calloused hand took my limp one and pulled me instead. "Come on, Rose," he said, monotone and sad. "We have to get a move on."

I did as I was told, and wiped my dripping nose with my coat sleeve.\

We went one way, but I immediately regretted it. I cried in shock and horror when I saw the carpet soaked with salty ocean water, small waves lapping at the walls. My cry echoed, and in the silence there was a creak and then a groan. My stomach turned as cold as the icy sea. I could already imagine the furniture going askew, plates floating and bobbing in the water, and the tilting of the ship as it sunk further and further into the abyss.

I didn't know Jack's breathing had become so loud until he took my hand and pulled me back where we started. "Here, come this way."

A few turns later and that's when we heard it. The loud, buzzing noise of people nervously chattering. We both looked at each other with a questionable gaze that held some terrible knowing in it as well.

Rounding the corner, I gasped. There were the steerage class, all locked below, a couple crew members trying to retain them inside. Shocked in place, I didn't have time to stop Jack from grabbing a steward by the scruff of his neck and shaking him like a dog. In response, the man tried to keep his expression strong but only came out as weak.

As for the other, he ran away in shock after his companion commanded him to go get help.

"What do you think you're doing, locking these people down here like this?" Jack yelled, shaking him again. "Huh? They have lives too, you know!"

"Jack, please… No!" I exclaimed, separating the two. "Please, let's not fight."

Jack begrudgingly let go of the steward and took my hand in the process. Anger with a tint of fear remained in his eyes. I smiled knowing that he was trying to stay calm in the worst of situations.

Going back to reality, I put on my best beggar face and said, "Sir, can you please let them through?"

As the steward and I got into a heated conversation, a voice exclaimed, "Jack!" I smiled, even though my body was seething with anger at the crew member, for it was Fabrizio with his admirer, Helga.

Jack, his previous fury gone, ran over to the gate and replied, "Fabri! Helga!" The look of hatred on his face became one of desperation to get his friends out; they were trapped like dogs in a cage.

I felt a migraine begin to form in my anxious head and stopped the steward from talking to me any further. "If you won't open this gate for us, I guess I might as well open it myself!" The corner of my lip twitched. _Doesn't he know that if he keeps these people locked down here, they would die?_ "Jack!" I exclaimed, calling for his attention.

I pointed to the bench on the other side of the gate, and realization glimpsed in his eyes. "Fabri! See that bench over there?" Fabrizio turned around and nodded. "If you can break that thing off and ram it into the gate, you could get out!"

"What do you think you're—" was all the steward was able to begin before he was shushed by a loud Irish accent yelling over the scared, chattering crowd of voices, "Listen, everyone! On the count of three! One… Two…"

My bitter mood from the indiscretion of the steward slowly ebbed away when I saw Tommy, along with Fabri and a couple other burly men, start to tug at the bench, pulling it away from its roots. "Tommy!" I screamed, relief cracking my voice. _We're all here now…_

The steerage class, few knowing the English language, knew what it meant as the four men prepared to ram down the gates. Taking a step back and pulling Jack with me, we watched as our good friends heaved and pushed on the metal bars, the cry of the steward's panic unhearing, as the lock gave way.

Jack and I dashed to hug them as everyone began to scurry out, confused lines appearing in their foreign faces, the steward getting a bloody nose from Tommy as he joined our embrace. Tears traced down my pale, terrified cheeks as I looked at them all, alive for probably the last time. Helga's eyes glistened, and Tommy's and Fabrizio's gleamed with determination.

"We have to get to the deck and stay on as long as possible," Jack explained to them, the meaning of his words not understood.

When the definition of his sentence came to my mind, I gaped in shock. "Jack, are you saying there are no more lifeboats?"

The others got what I meant but showed no expression, other than the straight lines of their lips. Jack sighed, his eyes heavy with responsibility. He said no words, and his eyes showed me he wished not to lie to me. "B-but there might be a couple left… We've only been gone for…" My lips turned downward as I realized I had no clue how long it had taken us to cobble up the plan, and then again we need all the time in the world to make it back up to the decks and come up with another.

"We've better get a move on," Tommy suggested.

Everyone agreed glumly, the prolonged future creeping into their eyes. Jack's hand rubbed the skin on my knuckles tenderly, yet I knew that his endless ways to comfort me were useless now.

And for once during the entire voyage, no memory of our ten years of time together could appear in my mind's eye.

…

The tilt of the floors became steeper. It was I who noticed, being the one who took the brave step up the first flight of stairs we came across, that the floor felt heavier, as though my ankles were struggling to keep supporting my legs. I gulped, my mouth dry, and continued to climb.

Seconds turned into minutes, and by the time we were able to reach the upper deck of the Grand Staircase, the time became visible: 1:37, the morning of April fifteenth, 1912.

Terror, pity, and a terrible sorrow squeezed my heart, and my mouth drawled out a mumbled "O-oh." My knees grew weak, yet I still stood firmly in my place, the floor beneath them clearly now feeling the force of gravity.

The cold air of the outside world plucked at my skin again, making it crawl with the calmness of the night. The stars were so bright, but with no moon… I knew from the start that this was not going to end well.

Jack's wound had slowed him down halfway through our walk to find a way out, and so Fabri and I helped him as best we could. I put an arm around his waist, my hand lightly placed on top of the injury, and Fabri put an arm around his shoulders. Two dear friends we were to him, and to lose one another could kill and unite us.

Our eyes locked for that moment in time. It was like we were telling each other, "It was great knowing you," but saying it out loud would upset us even further. My lips turned down into a frown; I wish I had tried to know Fabrizio better. Tommy and Helga glanced at each other with sadness reflecting in their eyes as though they were saying goodbye too.

Jack's breathing became more raspy and uneven. His blue eyes glazed over, but the strength that was still left gleamed in his black pupils. Smiling weakly, I pulled him into an encouraging hug. "We're going to make it…," I whispered into his ear before kissing him sweetly on the cheek.

He was the strong one, but he was faltering. No one is made of stone. So seeing Jack in the state he was in only made me crumble a bit, but not completely. I glanced at Fabrizio and Helga, who had their arms around each other; Helga's teeth were chattering and eyes watering, and Fabrizio's expression showed great sorrow. I turned my attention back to Jack. For now, even in the horror of the situation, I knew he needed to sit down. "Come on," I told everyone. "I know where to go."

Tommy had been sent to see if there were any lifeboats left, and he appeared just as we were preparing to walk away and get out of the chilly, still air. Out of breath, he huffed, "There are a couple left, including the ones on top of the bridge. They're launching them fast."

Nodding, I thanked him and we moved towards the gymnasium, the deck tilting underneath us. People threw deck chairs over the

Inside we found John Jacob Astor IV with his wife Madeleine. He had cut open a lifebelt to show his new darling wife what was inside—cork, I presumed. With a nod of my head we acknowledged them, but now was not the time for civilized conversation. Taking deep breaths, we waited for a couple minutes, my eyelids growing heavy with tears as I watched the newly wedded couple, before knowing it was time to find a lifeboat and get off this death trap.

Lifeboats thirteen and fifteen were being launched; my throat clenched. _Two lifeboats gone… How many are there left now? _I watched as lifeboat fifteen came close to squashing lifeboat thirteen, where the people were screaming while the crewman aboard frantically severed the ropes. They maneuvered with seconds to spare.

Closing my eyes, I got lost in reverie. I remembered my time with Jack since the beginning—our meeting in the field, my ribbon in the river, the solace he offered after my father's death, on the beach the night of my sixteenth birthday. Would they all be spared, or thrown into the monstrous ocean?

I didn't notice I was crying (or wasting time) until a hand came down gently on my shoulder, and a sob that had been building up escaped my throat. My hands were covering my tensed eyes, elbows on the rail, shoulders slumped. "What are we going to do?" I whimpered, sniffling.

"Get in a lifeboat, Rose," someone behind me said.

Except, the voice didn't belong to Jack.

My head immediately whipped around as my arm was forcefully taken by no other than Cal. Looking around hectically, I realized I must've lost Jack and the others when I had taken a step to the rail to see the commotion; I had lingered behind too long, and now here I was with my fiancé, who certainly wasn't happy.

"Let go of me, Cal," I said, my voice hoarse through my gritted teeth. I refused to look him in the eye.

That's when I felt it: the slap, the sound of my soft skin being beaten by that of the older man's hand. But I was, and I feel disgusted for admitting it, used to the unpleasant feeling. How many times had he hurt me this voyage? I rubbed my burning red cheek, my face already rouged from the cold. My green eyes reflected hatred for this arrogant man, who knew me not at all.

I turned away forcefully and looked down at the black sea. "What would you have done after we were married, Cal?" I said calmly. "We're faced with a life-threatening situation." I dared myself to turn back around and look into his dark eyes. "What would you have done?"

He licked his dry lips and the crazed look in his eye made me flinch. "Why, my darling sweet pea, I would have given you anything you wanted. I could give you more than that gutter rat ever could." He looked around, the grasp he had on my wrist slowly tightening. "In fact, I could give you this –" He shoved the Heart of the Ocean in my coat pocket, the blue diamond shimmering in the starry sky "—and get you on this next lifeboat."

"No!" I cried when he started pulling me away to the nearest boarding lifeboat. I bit his hand – hard.

He immediately let go, calling me things I will not repeat, nor would I want to remember from this cold-hearted man. "Our courtship has been pointless and regrettable," I said fiercely, my eyes watering from fury. Seeing the corner of his eye twitch in anger, I silently gasped when I saw the tiny glint of sorrow in his eyes, but I still hawked up a huge ball of saliva and spit the viscous liquid right into his unseeing brown eyes anyway.

Watching his face cringe in horror, I pulled the priceless diamond necklace out of my pocket and threw it at his flailing arms before pushing through the crowd. I only looked back once to see I had aimed horribly: The diamond had flown right past him and plunked into the black sea.

…

Walking aft, I was greeted by the scampering of dogs against my legs, and I jumped back in fright as the soft fur tickled my cold skin. Heart pounding in my chest, I saw Kitty, the Astor's dog, pound across the wooden flooring, the Airedale's pampered nails scraping at the deck. _I wonder who let these dogs out of the kennel._

It reminded me of the sight of a first-class passenger, Ann Isham, who had refused to get into a lifeboat so she could stay with her large dog Toujours. _Toujours_ meant _always_… The thought of her now, staying behind with her long-lasting companion, made my heart break a little. Then there was Ida and Isidor Straus, together for forty years. Ida had given up her place to be with him… And the thought of them made my fragile heart crack again.

My loss of reality was broken when I saw just who I was looking for: Fabri holding Helga in his arms just as she was about to be let into lifeboat four. The wooden boat was full of the remaining first-class women and children (or so I guessed), including Madeleine. I saw J.J. stand away just as he asked for a seat next to his wife; there was an optimistic smile on his face as he said goodbye to his bride.

Watching Helga step into the boat, seeing her hand rip apart from Fabri's, I couldn't take it anymore and cried in utter bother, "Fabri!"

As I ran towards him, silent tears slipping down my cheeks, a familiar voice approached my delicate ears: "Rose!"

My lip quivered in solace as I was picked up off my feet by Jack, who kissed my face over and over again, his own blue eyes wet with relief. The ripping pain in his side didn't even affect him, he was so relieved. "Where did you go?" he asked me with a raspy voice; he was clearly anxious about my whereabouts.

I inhaled deeply, feeling safe in his arms, and replied, "I got lost in the commotion…"

The sound of a working davit made me jump. I whipped around to see lifeboat four being lowered, Helga looking up at us all, waving with tears in her eyes. I waved back, and my heart shattered: Was that the last one?

"Don't worry, Rose," Tommy said behind me. "There are still a couple more forward." Nodding, I bit my lip and looked away from the scene, putting my pounding head on Jack's shoulder.

It was 2:00 in the morning of April fifteenth. _How long before this is all over?_


	19. A Deathly Realization

**Fun Fact #19: A New Study**

**Recently it's been discovered that the way we thought the **_**Titanic**_** has always split (as depicted in the movie) may be incorrect. Diving two and a half miles to the bottom of the ocean, a piece of **_**Titanic**_**'s keel was found to be the part where the ship split. It looked like it had a neatly snapped edge, but the way it broke in the movie would mean that it would instead have to look rugged and torn. Historians now believe that the **_**Titanic**_** started slowly breaking earlier on in the sinking and finally "caved in." It would look closely like the depiction in the movie, but the bow would rise a few feet above the waterline until it was completely broken away. For more information, watch the History Channel's **_**Titanic at 100: Mystery Solved.**_

**Chapter 18**

**A Deathly Realization**

In the long run, I knew I couldn't leave Jack. However, with the floor beneath my feet tilting at a steep level, my natural instinct of human survival mingled with my common sense. That's why when we reached the lifeboats near the sinking bow, it was tempting to jump inside.

To get to the other side of the ship faster, we ran into the interior and passed through the first-class lounge. There, standing in his falling glory, was Thomas Andrews. My panting turned into tears when I saw him fix the time on the clock perched above the fireplace. The only time I really opened my eyes and _saw _the grandeur of _Titanic _was when he was there: And the lounge never looked so beautiful.

"Mr. Andrews!" I cried, running over to pull him into a hug.

"I'm sorry I couldn't build you a stronger ship, Rose," he said painfully while accepting my hug. Jack could see the mixed emotions reflecting in his eyes.

Even after we parted, it wasn't until much later that I realized a hug wasn't enough to say goodbye.

And now here I was, crying silently for Mr. Andrews and the many men, women, and children left behind. I watched in horror as collapsible B came down and smashed on to the deck, now a useless piece of wood. It slowly got washed away.

I wanted to turn around and run. Maybe if I kept running, it would all stop. However, the tugging feeling of longing to be with Jack and insure his survival along with mine convinced me to refuse any offer of leaving him, even my own instincts I defied. He was my best friend and first love, after all.

Tears still stung my cheeks as I turned around with no more hesitation on my face. Jack had sent Tommy and Fabri to go check out the other side to see if they could get in, which only reminded me of Mr. Andrews' refused attempt to make a try for it. Jack was almost certain that with the limited lifeboats left, crew members would be letting in men now.

He was wrong. In fact, the only men able to get in were those with children. A sour feeling curdled in my stomach when I saw Cal huddled in the collapsible A, holding an innocent little girl with tear stains on her cheeks. She was obviously a lost daughter from steerage.

"I'm not leaving," I stated firmly, but my strict attempt was ruined by the tears forming in my eyes. "We've been through too much together. I need to know you'll be okay."

Many people still flooded the decks, but way too many – much more than half the ship's population. "No, Rose, you need to get in a boat," Jack replied. I could detect his own hesitance in his voice.

I shook my head, taking his face in my hands. "It's been ten years, Jack. _Ten years. _If you think I'm just going to climb into that lifeboat without you, then you're crazy. It's _my _decision. And I've decided that I'm staying with you…" Silent tears cascaded down my delicate cheeks. "_Only_ you. I'm staying with you, Jack."

I flung my arms around him, sobbing into his shoulder. I remembered all those times when I hugged him like this: when my pet bird flew away, when my father died, when my first boyfriend, Henry, broke up with me, when I realized he loved me.

All those memories, good and bad, would be scattered to the winds if I didn't stay. So I had made my decision, and it might just be one of life or death.

By the time Jack ripped me off his shoulders, he wiped away my tears with his thumbs and put our foreheads together. Looking into his dashing blue eyes, it looked as though he was holding in his own tears. "Promise me one thing, Rose," he whispered, and I watched his beautiful heart-shaped lips form the words. I nodded, biting my lower lip. "Promise me that you won't regret your decision later on."

A small smile appeared on my lips. "Which decision? The one where I decided to be your friend, or the one when I made up my mind to kiss you?"

He raised an eyebrow in confusion at the last part. I giggled, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck, and then brought him closer in a passionate kiss that lost its original meaning. Instead of it being amusing in a time of terror, it made my eyes water with more tears that expressed how strongly I loved him – and just how much our current situation was getting to me. No matter how much I tried to block them out, the people pushing and screaming around us were no longer there.

When we pulled apart, we stared into each other's eyes. I was breathing hard, my lips open and releasing puffs of vaporized air. I moved my gaze to the ground and croaked, "You mean so much to me…"

Jack put his finger on my chin and lifted my head up. His face was glowing; he didn't have to say anything, for I knew he loved me just as much, maybe even more. I smiled weakly.

"Rose, you still need to promise me," he whispered, the words taking some time to comprehend in my mind.

I shook my head, though, instead of nodding. "You already know my answer."

He took me into another long hug, pressing our bodies together and lifting me off the ground, kissing my temple fiercely. "Wherever you go, I go" I spoke softly into his ear, my warm breath tickling his skin.

The decision was final. The only thing left to decide from here on is how to get off this sinking ship.

…

For a couple minutes we searched for Tommy and Fabri, but when the deck became steep to the point we had to grab onto the railing to stop from sliding down to our deaths, we gave up our search and started to climb – literally – aft. It was every man for himself from this point on.

As we scrambled up the deck, squeezing through groups of immigrants who had managed to make it out of the locked gates and a variety of men, it happened before I could even comprehend what was occurring. I remember struggling to keep up with Jack, my dress wrinkled and threatening to trip me, when I felt my foot give out from under me.

I let out a piercing scream, felt my breath be squeezed out of my lungs as my chest thumped on the ground, and slid downward a couple inches before desperately grabbing on to the railing. I struggled with my knees and hips to bring myself upward, but it was impossible. "Jack!" I cried fearfully.

That's when I felt a pair of strong arms grab me and help me up. They were lean and powerful from years of outdoor labor. I couldn't help but give a smile as Jack just as desperately pulled me back up. "Rose, I need you to hold on tight, all right?" I nodded, tears of a near-death experience morphing into tears of tender care.

He whipped back around and kept moving upward, his hand occasionally brushing mine to make sure I was okay. One time, he lingered there for more than necessary, feeling my fingers shake. It was a small gesture that meant so much more to me.

With each pull I made, the more I realized how this was the last time this ship would ever be seen by the living in all its majesty. All the people I've met and befriended – Mr. Andrews, Tommy, Fabrizio – could all be memories now. I might never see their faces again, as much as it hurt to admit it. My heart slowed to a thumping pulse that left me heartbroken and shattered. All the men separated from their wives, from their children - and the women and children being separated from their husbands and fathers. I let out a pent-up sob at how lucky I was to still have Jack by my side.

After what seemed like years of climbing, my arms and middle section burned. I noticed that Jack had led us to the stern, the very back of the ship. He grabbed ahold of the railing and turned around, giving me his hand. I took it, afraid of falling, and gave my best effort in pulling myself up.

For a moment I glanced into his eyes, relief pasted all over them. I felt his arms wrap around mine, and the cold railing digging into my knees. We were safe for now.

When I looked down, my eyes widened in horror. The whole ship was being eaten alive by the cold ocean, the city once living their frantically skidding across the deck. Many fell, many held on, and many cried. My eyes watered when I heard the band playing in the distance, a sorrowful tune wafting away. I wondered how terrible it was to be in the surrounding lifeboats, watching your family drown.

Shaking, I put my head on Jack's shoulder, closed my eyes, and took a deep breath, remembering his smell: generic soap, fresh grass, and my favorite shampoo. I smiled a broken grin through his shirt; the scent was so familiar and warm.

_I was fourteen and Jack was seventeen. It was my birthday and I wanted him to teach me to draw. He told me to watch over his shoulder and note his movements. We were at the park, crouched on the ground, the grass staining my skirt. Jack had his sketchpad on his lap, his legs crossed. I got up from the ground and bent my knees behind him, putting my chin on his shoulder._

I squeezed my eyes tighter when I heard a giant creak, loud shrieks, and splashes far below me. Memories threatened to overwhelm me, but I kept playing the one currently in my head.

_My father and mother were taking a walk around the park, giving me the time to meet Jack. I had met him excitedly, giving him a huge, sisterly hug. We hadn't seen each other in two months. So when I got a whiff of his scent, a wave of something I did not understand came over me. It made me close my eyes and take another sniff._

The _Titanic_ was being sucked down farther now, rising higher and higher. I could feel it beneath me, but not as strongly as I could the feel of a carving knife in my hand or a book in my lap; my father's warm embrace around my small body or sitting on his knee.

_Before Jack could start, I put my hands on his shoulders and leaned my head forward, a questioning look on my face. _

I could feel the warm breeze in the air like when we first met, the smell of the long grass tickling my nose. There was the feel of paper against my soft skin, a charcoal scene sketched in front of me. _"They're quite…good."_

_"What type of shampoo do you use?" I had asked, and we both burst out laughing. _

Walking through the lush green, we headed home and I reached out for his hand. Slowly our fingers interlocked, our hands fitting perfectly together.

_Jack's face turned a deep red, and hugged him again. Oh, how I had missed him…_

There was that time more than a year ago when my hair shone in the moonlight as I laid in his lap, staring into his eyes. He stroked my curls so gently, his hand brushing my skin, and I closed my eyes to embrace the moment. I was never so at peace.

Now here we were, three years later, on the grandest ship in the world that just happened to be dying. The memoirs that had swarmed me made me wrap my arms more firmly around him, and that's when I heard it.

For a second I thought someone was shooting a gun, and fear gripped my stomach. Then I saw the horrible sight of a smokestack tilting, the metal lines holding it in place snapping. It made me feel sick, and I had to look away.

Jack noticed my discomfort and kissed the top of my head. "It's okay, Rose. We'll make it out of this," he kept saying so certainly, though I could hear the hint of fear in his voice.

Then there was a noise so loud and so terrifying, I jumped in fright. I hadn't noticed the lights had gone out. My eyes widened and my mouth gaped open, wanting to let out a scream. It was the ship, and the deck was…splitting.

The wood splintered, and the stern section jerked horizontally. It kept lurching like that, and the crack spread through the portholes, down the sides of the ship of grandeur. The sight made my heart stop and my mind repeatedly saying, _"This isn't happening, this isn't happening, this isn't happening…"_

The sensation of wanting to hurl was new to the ordeal. I never made the connection that once the ship completely split, the stern would start to _fall_. It dropped into a more level position; I felt Jack's arms let go of me, and his voice telling me to hang on tight. We had climbed over the rail, but that wasn't such a good decision anymore.

The sense of falling didn't last for a second, nor did it last for a minute. However, as the stern broke apart from the bow, the drop it had to make felt like the worst roller coaster I've ever been on. Jack and I had thrown ourselves over the railing, our hands holding on with all our might. Through the darkness I could make out my knuckles, white from the robust grip I thought I had.

That's when the stern hit the water with a shattering splash. What happened next made me breathless.

I thought I was so strong. I remember feeling my hands start to slip, and then the feeling of plunging into the blind chasm. I remember my scream, and Jack's terrified cry of "Rose!" Strangely, I remember it all: the horror as the monstrous waters of the North Atlantic swallowed up the mighty _Titanic_ in giant, wave-crashing gulps; the stern breaking apart; my hands letting go.

In the end, I was terribly wrong. I really wasn't strong enough.

I felt what seemed like hitting concrete. The cold made my skin feel like it was burning off. When I tried to breath, the air tasted like salty water.

The last thing I remember was seeing Jack's smiling face, feeling his lips on my own, and my retina burning in the memory of our first kiss.

The memory of four days ago.


	20. Fight for Survival

**Fun Fact #20: Saved from the North Atlantic**

**Though it may seem impossible for anyone to be saved from water as cold as twenty-eight degrees Fahrenheit, there were actually quite a few passengers and crew that were rescued. One of the main reasons was because of lifeboat collapsible B, which was capsized on its way down from the top of the bridge. The few dozen passengers who clung on to it were submerged by their feet and had to balance out the air pocket underneath for more than an hour before rescue came. Lifeboat fourteen, run by Fifth Officer Harold Lowe, decided to go back twenty minutes after the ship sunk. However, moving his passengers to the other nearest lifeboat took nearly forty-five minutes. He saved five passengers from the water, but one passed away. Lifeboat four, which had been closest to the sinking, rescued a few people from the water. Others, or the men of collapsible B, included Archibald Gracie, Jack Thayer, and Second Officer Charles Lightoller. Out of all the men who had clung on to survive, including Jack Phillips, who had died while waiting, only fourteen of collapsible B's forty-something were left by morning. **

**Chapter 19**

**Fight for Survival**

Everything I knew and grew up with flooded me all at once. It came back so strongly and so persistently, my mind felt swollen and my body overwhelmed. A tingling sensation spread from my head to my toes, creeping along my spine.

There was Jack hiding in the long grass, his drawings flying away in the breeze. There was my high-pitched scream as he plunged into the river for my favorite ribbon. There were my tears as he told me he was leaving, that my mother had fired him. There were my achy sobs and his warm body pressed again mine when my father died. And there he was, standing in front of the hotel in Paris, waiting for me. He had followed me wherever I went. Why couldn't I have seen it sooner? If I had, maybe we wouldn't be in this situation. If only I hadn't been so ignorant and stupid.

Then there came the memory of his soft words against my skin, our first kiss. Every single time we spent together swamped me. I felt like I was floating, that I was nothing at all.

Suddenly, my eyes shot open, startled. I opened my mouth to breath, my lungs feeling like they were going to explode, but all I got was cold, salty water. I tried to move but I couldn't. I was going to die.

The water caressed my skin, making it burn. That's when the miracle happened.

I wasn't suspended underneath the ocean at all. In fact, since I fell in it's been moving me violently when I couldn't feel a single bone in my body. Waves crashed from up above. And as I looked up and saw the stern rising in the air, I knew what would happen next.

The water around me swirled. The suction from the stern picking itself back up had created an upwards movement. I was moving towards the surface.

Jack. His face came to my mind and escaped through my blue lips, creating pockets of air bubbles to swim around me. Maybe those bubbles will reach him and tell him to save me. Not that I had any doubt he wouldn't try. But how could he find me through this whole mass of chaos?

Reaching the surface was on my list of the most relieving events since before the _Titanic _hit an iceberg. I took in a deep breath and tried to move again, but I still couldn't feel my body. I could only move my fingers, and maybe my toes, but that was all. Taking deep breaths, I coughed up water and phlegm violently. I looked up at the rising stern. I tried to make out Jack's body on the top, but I couldn't see anything. The clumps of bodies merged together into one giant crowd, and it was too dark to make out even a speck. I wish the lights hadn't gone out.

That sour, cold feeling in my stomach only worsened. If the lights had gone out, that meant one thing: The boiler rooms had flooded. All those men who had worked so hard to

Strangely enough, I wasn't worried about me or Jack. The people of the RMS _Titanic_, the little city that had roamed and dined and slept, were gone or separated. And I couldn't stop thinking about them and all the lives lost. There was Mr. Andrews, a kindhearted man who didn't deserve to see his prized ship go down; there was Fabrizio and Tommy, whose fates were a mystery to me.

I wish I knew. And I wish I could've said goodbye, officially, for just one more time. Because I didn't want to believe any of this until it was too late.

I didn't notice I had been crying, nor that I was wearing a lifebelt. How long had I been toting that around? When did I put it on? But whatever the case, it didn't matter how it got there. If I didn't have one, I probably would've drowned. My skin glowed and my lilac dress floated around me like a ghost's tail.

The waves had pushed me far enough from the stern that I got a good view as it sank deep into the waters, the last memory I would ever have of the ship of dreams. I closed my eyes as a dull headache started to pound in my skull, my body slowly freezing.

All of a sudden, I started to panic. If I couldn't move, then how could I survive? My stomach started to churn as my ears finally picked up the sound of fifteen hundred people struggling to survive. The people I thought about, the people I cried for. There were screams, sobs, and a whistle being blown in the distance. How long did we have?

I screamed when the water started to pull at me again. Of course I had heard the blaring noise of the waves eating up the ship, but I didn't notice it was gone. A large pit of bubbles and foam replaced the spot where the mighty ship was.

It pulled me closer to the suction, and I tried to struggle. Everything I did was a futile effort. Tears pricked at my eyes. I stopped thinking of the people and began thinking of the man who'd been by my side for as long as I could remember. And the most dreadful thought came to my numb mind: I never told him goodbye.

"Jack!" I cried, my voice cracked and dry. "Jack!" The water pulled me under, and I tried to scream.

In a few seconds, it was over. I bobbed to the surface, taking a deep breath. "Jack!" I attempted again, but my lip quivered and it was quieter than before. "Jack…"

I wanted to give up. The water was so cold, succumbing me with its deathly powers. I told him I loved him. Why did it matter if I lived? Cal would find me and force me to be his wife. Jack and I would be parted forever.

My breathing became shallower as I closed my eyes and let the water take me wherever it pleased. I gasped when I felt the grip of someone's hands on my shoulders. "Let go of me!" I pleaded and cried, shaking my weak neck. I had regained some muscle movement there, but I still couldn't kick my legs nor wave my arms. I thought he mistook me for a piece of debris and would then drown me. I tried to squirm out of his grip, but it was hopeless.

"Rose," the man said. His voice was full of lethargy. My shoulders relaxed and the water didn't feel so cold anymore. "Jack," I replied, closing my eyes to hold back the tears that already tainted my cheeks. I needed to be strong.

"Y-you're all r-right," he stuttered from the cold, and I noticed a hint of choked relief in his tone. My lips parted, surprised for the second time that night. Jack, my strong Jack, was crying again.

I nodded, glad I could move my head and neck. I was especially thankful that I was slowly regaining my feeling. "Yeah, I-I'm all right." I smiled weakly as he put his arms around my waist and held me close in an embrace. "I t-hought I lost you," he croaked softly. "I saw you fall, and I j-jumped in after you, but I c-couldn't find you. T-that was quite a splash you m-made. Are you s-sure you're okay?"

I swallowed hard. "Yes, I t-think. I'm so numb I c-can't feel a thing." We stayed like that, just the two of us. Nothing around us mattered. My dreary interpretations – like how I thought I was going to die—were replaced with hope. Yes, we could make it out of this alive. But first we had to get out of this water.

As though Jack had read my thoughts, he pulled away and turned me around. His lips were blue and his hair held back. "Listen, Rose, I n-need you to swim. We have to find something to hold on to."

He started to splash, my bottom lip quivering. "Jack," I rasped; he stopped and turned back around. Desperation was seen in my bottomless eyes. "I c-can't move. I don't feel anything, a-actually. I can only m-move my fingers and n-neck."

Jack came up behind me again and said maybe he could push me forward. I wanted to hold his hand as an apology, but he needed his whole body to swim past the many people – the children of the city – thrashing in the water. It was strange; for as much as I had thought about them, I didn't notice them since Jack came.

We finally came to a much less crowded area. Relief tingled through my body when I saw the big piece of wooden debris. I gripped on to it with my fingers, and Jack helped me up. I was about to ask him why he didn't get on with me, but my eyes adjusted and I saw what looked like a floating deck chair. He climbed on to that, his whole muscular figure trembling.

I was lying down on my stomach, my head on my arms, staring straight at Jack. I had never shivered so hard in my whole seventeen years. "I'm s-sorry for l-letting go, Jack." I finally broke the silence. I could see his blue eyes looking away from me, towards the suffering people. It was a scarring experience that would change our lives forever. Nothing would ever be the same. "I f-felt the impact of the s-ship hitting the w-water and it was m-more than I c-could handle. I lost my g-grip."

He didn't answer right away, so I closed my eyes, remaining silent. There was pain now, a tingling pain that I've never felt before creeping up my back as the cold seized to exist, but I ignored it as best as I could. I could practically feel the frustration as Jack thought of a suitable reply.

He never said anything, though. I couldn't blame him. The screams and cries around us started to dim, and I knew that time was a cruel thing, creeping by us like a shadow. There was nothing to say and nothing we could do but wait.

Waiting ended up being more than thirty minutes. A calm sensation started to ease my mind, pulling me into the depths of sleep. But the pain had picked up, leaving me breathless with every twitch. I moaned quietly, wishing I could just die.

"It wasn't your fault, Rose," I heard Jack say. I opened my eyes slowly, which had been crusted shut. The tears I had shed made my skin feel stiff. "N-none of this was your f-fault, okay? I can't bear l-listening to you blame yourself l-like this." His voice cracked and shook, and I noticed the tear tracks on his face, illuminating the dark night. I could only stare at his handsome face, his chiseled jaw and blue lips. I wanted to kiss him so badly, for maybe it was the last time. I needed his warm lips on mine to reassure me that we were going to make it. My hope was slipping, dimming like the _Titanic _herself.

I looked away for a moment, thinking. I closed my eyes, opened my mouth, and said the only words I wanted to say. "I love you, Jack."

I could feel his eyes burning into my soul, but I no longer had the strength to open my eyes. I wasn't even capable of making tears anymore. The numbing feeling started to thaw away, and the soreness of my fall put my body in misery. My headache got worse, too. If the injuries of my fall were so dangerous, what use would I be to Jack if I were paralyzed? Unable to have kids? Or, in the worst case scenario, dead?

I could see my father's face looked down at me. His lips were moving but I couldn't understand what he was saying. Jack's words were the last thing I heard before falling into a deep sleep, uncertain if I would even wake up.

"Live for me, Rose. You're the only thing I have left."

…

"Can you hear me, miss?"

_I was in the meadow where Jack and I had met, waiting for him to return. I was wearing a flowing white dress, and my red curls cascaded elegantly down my back and shoulders. The darling red rose in my hand was impeccable, its petals rich and stem removed of thorns. Jack gave it to me before he left. Now I've been waiting for him to return, if he ever will. _

_Surrounding me were images of my past. An endless film of me and Jack as children and teenagers. I was being swarmed with memories. All the pain I had felt in the water was gone, and I felt strangely light and happy. _

"Check her pulse!"

_I started to pick at the rose petals, plucking them off one my one. Each petal got caught in the wind and floated away. When only the stem was left, a feeling of sadness overcame me and a pout formed on my lips. _

_The petals I had plucked danced in the wind, coming together. Then they flew towards me and fell, one my one, on my head. They decorated my hair and my dress with their beautiful color. I laughed at the petals falling on me, and that's when he appeared: Jack._

_I watched as he approached and sat down next to me, taking my hand. He tenderly caressed my cheek with his lips, a subtle greeting. Then we stared into each other's eyes as he took each rose petal and flicked them off my head. _

_I was finally free._

"She's breathing, she's breathing! Pull her in!"

I gasped loudly, my eyes darting open. I couldn't see anything, but I could feel my heart race beneath my thin dress. My blood was pounding loudly in my ears. Someone had wrapped me in their arms, pulling me out of the water, and I realized why I had woken from my dream so suddenly.

The pain in my back was just as numbing and burning as the ocean water. I could feel the air in my lungs wanting to scream, but I kept on panting and wheezing, giving horrible, pain-filled grunts. My face crumbled, my eyes still adjusting. I could make out shadowy figures and bright stars, but that was it. Tears crowded my eyes, the pain was so horrible.

I was frightened; I thought I had died. The dream was so peaceful… Surely I didn't wake up.

Someone else's hands took ahold of my lower back. "It hurts, it hurts!" I cried, resulting in sobbing. Where was Jack?

The first person's hands took my shoulders. My bottom hit something that felt like a wooden bench. My hands felt around for something, anything, to identify my location. A blanket was wrapped around me, and as the first person let go of their hold, the second one pushed me to lie down on whatever I was in.

Then it all hit me – the sinking, the fall, the water. The drowning, freezing people; my father's heavenly face; Jack's promise-filled words. This must be the lifeboat that came back. We were saved.

My hands still desperately searched around, my eyes still adjusting - not that my tears were helping with my eccentric blindness. Someone pulled me into a hug, his body warm and comforting. I immediately loosened up.

"Rose, it's okay now. You're safe… We both are," he said.

Breathing hard, I let my hand rest on the man's cheek. My fingers touched tears. Wet, sloppy ones. He was crying again.

"Jack?" I whispered, already knowing the answer. His lips kissed the top of my head, and he pulled me closer. Blinking, my vision came back to me. Indeed, it was Jack. He had his nose nuzzled in my hair. We were survivors.


	21. Rescue

**Fun Fact #21: Counting the Losses**

**No one will ever really know the true amount of people lost when the **_**Titanic **_**sank. The ****Cleveland Plain Dealer****, published on April 19, 1912, said that 1,601 perished; the British Enquiry into the sinking said 1,490. In the U.S., people said that the number was 1,517, which was declared in the American Inquiry. The number of survivors was about 705. In Walter Lord's ****A Night to Remember****, he states that the people lowered in the boats estimated by **_**survivors **_**was 854, while the actual figure was 651 (139 crew, 119 men, 393 women and children). **

_**Part III: The Will**_

**Chapter 20**

**Rescue**

Time passed and the world kept turning. The people in the boats were surprised it hadn't stopped, gaping in alarm at the _Titanic _disaster. Many had lost their hope in God. If there was one, why hadn't He stopped the ship from sinking? Why didn't He just make it all stop?

At 4:00 in the morning of April fifteenth, 1912, the lifeboats that contained the _Titanic _survivors saw a ship steaming forward in the distance. It was considerably smaller than the grand ship of dreams – though most would call it the ship of nightmares from now on – with only one smokestack. Its name was the _Carpathia_, and its captain, Arthur Rostron, watched in horror as the survivors were loaded in.

Most were able to climb the rope ladder they supplied. Small children, however, were loaded in mail bags and carried up to the deck above. When lifeboat fourteen reached the side of the rescue ship, the mourning passengers, mainly women, watched on with hope in their hearts that the one lifeboat that had come back had magically saved their husbands or loved ones.

One of these people was first-class passenger Ruth DeWitt Bukater, accompanied by Margaret Brown. Her red hair had fallen out of her bun, limp on her shoulders. Her hands shook even though they were covered in fine gloves. Her blue eyes, the same as her daughter's, were haunted by the screams of the night. Her thin lips were pursed in anticipation as she waited for the lifeboat to start unloading.

She swallowed loudly when one of the crew members had to go fetch a sling – the survivors from the water were weak and sick with pneumonia – and waited some more. Eventually, the waiting for too much for her; she started to whine and complain. "My dear Margaret, will they start unloading that boat now?" Her voice was vulnerable and quiet, her index finger pointing to the two crew members yelling down to the lifeboat below. "I believe my daughter is in there."

Margaret could only sigh. She knew how much Rose cared for Jack. What were the chances of both of them surviving anyway? Her heart felt heavy with grief.

The crew member came back with the sling. There was some chatter, and the rope ladder began to move. Ruth waited impatiently, holding her breath.

The first thing she saw was the shaggy, dirty-blond hair. Then came the piercing blue eyes and tanned face of a boy she knew. Her face fell at first, realizing it was Jack Dawson, the ex-stable boy she hired years ago, but hope flooded her when she remembered that her daughter had always liked Jack.

Two crew members worked hard on steadying the sling; they were bringing someone up. Whimpers escaped the women around her, waiting to see who was saved. Ruth saw the curly red hair and her eyes began to water: it was Rose.

Everyone watched as the blond man gently held the broken woman, whose eyes were close and body limp. Her lips, however, were tremulous and screaming in pain. He began to carry her away, her figure held closely in his strong arms.

"Jack, it hurts! It hurts!" she whined, and she began to cry. The women crowded around them began to move apart, creating a space Jack could easily move through. A kind young woman in her mid-thirties stepped out and asked him if he needed any assistance; he declined her offer kindly, saying that the woman had simply fallen off the ship and probably strained something. The only thing he really needed was the infirmary.

Ruth watched in horror as Jack's figure came her way, not noticing anything around him except for her daughter, who had stopped screaming but kept whispering something incoherent. Shaken, she stepped out of the crowd and right in his path.

Jack watched in shock when Ruth made her appearance. She looked like she was about to say something, but no words came out. Her lips clamped shut and she waved her arms at her daughter, feeling like she was going to burst. Her brain thudded in her skull.

"Is she…all right?" she finally asked, putting her gloved hand on her daughter's forehead. Through the fabric she could feel Rose had a terrible fever.

He stared at her for a moment, adjusting Rose in his arms, who whimpered in pain. He eventually just shrugged and explained, "We were at the top of the stern when the ship split in half. She couldn't hold on and she fell."

Ruth's mouth made a wide O-shape in horror. Because of this _boy, _Rose could've died!

Margaret stepped out of the crowd and moved Ruth aside so Jack could continue on. They followed obediently behind him; Ruth for the first time noticing how tall he was.

When they reached the infirmary, Rose was taken immediately. She started to scream from panic, and had a death grip on Jack's hand. She still hadn't opened her eyes even once, but the fever raged on.

Ruth watched as they placed her daughter in the nearest bed, Jack kneeling beside her, and started to take off her clothes. "What happened?" the nurse asked him, and after he explained they had to lay Rose on her back. The nurse forcefully prodded at Rose's naked back, searching for the cause of concern.

Rose screamed some more, and it looked like she was trying to thrash around, but she could only move her hands, feet, and head. Jack looked concerned, lines forming in his forehead. Ruth, unable to take the horror, closed her eyes and put her hands to her ears, remembering the time when Rose was five and fallen out of a tree. Her daughter had cried for only a few minutes, fighting the pain in her broken leg.

Now, years later, when her daughter was older and stronger, Ruth didn't want to know what was wrong to make Rose cry so much. She automatically turned around and walked out of the room, no longer wanting to watch her daughter sob.

…

The morning turned to afternoon, and the _Carpathia_ started sailing to New York. Two ships had arrived on the scene, the _Californian_, which had spent the night only fifty miles away from the _Titanic_, close enough to save them all,and _Mount Temple_, who carried out a search for any survivors and collecting corpses. Among them was the pristine and proper son of the Pittsburgh steel tycoon, Caledon Hockley.

Ruth learned of this news even before the ships had found his body, for all the lifeboats had been boarded and he never appeared. _The perfect husband for my daughter is now lost at sea_, she thought as she sat on the bed of the shared stateroom. _What a tragedy this was._

Meanwhile, Margaret had gone to check on Rose's condition. When she got to the infirmary, she saw Rose's worn out, sleeping face. IVs and tubes had been attached to her arm and back. She was dressed in a hospital gown. Jack sat on a chair next to her, looking pale and tired.

"How is she?" she asked, pulling up a chair. A nurse came and offered her a cup of tea, which she accepted gratefully. It was just the thing she needed after such a long day. Jack sighed deeply, relief in his features. His shirt was tossed off on the side and a fresh bandage was wrapped around the bullet wound given by Cal. He hardly remembered it was even there the whole night.

"She'll be okay," he said, taking a sip of the hot drink they offered. "Apparently the fall caused some swelling in her spinal cord. She should be able to move by the time we reach New York."

"Was she paralyzed?" Margaret asked, stirring the lemon in her tea. Jack nodded, deep in thought.

She sighed deeply, enjoying the silence through the thick sorrow.

"Jack?"

Both of them looked up, Margaret putting her teacup aside quickly. Jack had already knelt next to Rose's bed, holding her pale, clammy hand. She was awake.

She looked at them, confused. "Where am I?" she asked, cringing from the ache in her back. "And where's Cal?"

It was Jack and Margaret's turn to be confused. Jack was alarmed, becoming concerned. "We're on the _Carpathia_, sweetheart. You don't remember the sinking?"

Rose shook her head, her eyes starting to tear up. "No," she mumbled, squeezing Jack's hand harder.

The nurse who had diagnosed and taken care of Rose came up with a clipboard, her ears perking up at their conversation. "It's normal for her to have some memory loss," she explained, noticing the concern etched in Jack's face. "She should remember soon. A week, at the most. She'll either remember everything at once, or her memories will slowly reappear in her head. Now let her rest." She wrote a couple things down on the clipboard and walked away.

When she was out of hearing range, Margaret leaned over and whispered, "Cal is dead, Rose."

Rose's eyes widened in shock. "Cal is dead? But, we're getting married…" She looked at Jack for reassurance. "I think?"

Jack bit the inside of his cheek, hard. How could she not remember everything they've been through? Does she still remember who he even is? Or is she still convincing herself to marry Cal? "You were going to, Rose, but I'm your best friend. Don't you remember? You wanted to get off the ship with me."

Rose blinked, wrinkles appearing in her flawless forehead. Her bottom lip slipped down into a pout. "What ship?" she asked, her voice rising. "I don't know what's going on!"

Jack sighed, putting his face in his hands, and Margaret listened on, not knowing what to say. Then Rose blinked, and she looked like she was concentrating hard. "Cal is…dead? No, that's not right. I saw him get in a lifeboat."

Jack's head jerked up, hope sparkling in his blue eyes. His hand caressed hers. "You remember, Rose?"

Rose shook her head, and Jack's heart darkened. How come she only remembered this? "I only remember seeing him in a lifeboat. Maybe it flooded and he got sucked down or something…," Rose contemplated. Later she would learn that the boat he got into, collapsible A, was flooded with a foot of water and he died of exposure, the only one out of thirty or so people. She sighed. "Well, either way, Cal is dead." She smiled slightly at Jack. "I might not remember what happened, but I'm glad you're here, Jack."

…

Margaret was returning to the stateroom she shared with Ruth and another passenger. Rose had fallen asleep, and the nurse informed Jack he needed his strength too. Dinner was being served soon.

When she entered the room, Ruth was immediately beside her. "How is she? Is she okay?"

Margaret led Ruth to the bed and sat her down, then plopped next to her. "Rose is fine, Ruth," she said, sighing deeply. "She'll need her rest. She's still in some pain and she has some memory loss, but that'll clear up."

Ruth paled. "Memory loss? How severe?"

Margaret shrugged. "She still thinks she's marrying Cal. I'm guessing her memory is lost to when she boarded the _Titanic_." Ruth stayed silent. What else was there to say?

…

The next day, Ruth and Margaret both visited Rose with cheery faces. Jack was still asleep, cramped in his chair. The nurse was setting a tray in front of Rose that consisted of a bowl of oatmeal and a glass of water. Rose's nose wrinkled in disgust.

"Good morning, darling," Ruth said, sitting on the edge of her daughter's bed. Rose smiled at her, feeling much better than the night before. "How do you feel?"

"Much better," Rose replied, taking a delicate sip of her water. "I'm remembering quite a bit." She dared to look in her mother's eyes. "I remember boarding and not wanting to marry Cal. I also remember seeing Jack and then we…kissed." She blushed furiously, nervous, and dug her spoon into her oatmeal.

Everyone was silent for a few seconds. Ruth let it slip from her mind that her daughter had been so intimate with their old servant, but she still didn't approve of the idea whenever it was brought up. Instead, she decided to face the more pressing issue at hand. "Mr. Hockley's dead," she confirmed, breaking the still air. "The marriage is off."

Rose was very still. "Of course it's off, but…" She looked at her mother, studying her, unsure. "You're not going to…make me marry someone else?"

Ruth laughed and patted her daughter's hand. "No, I just got a telegram." She pulled a crisp piece of paper out of her pocket. "It's from our lawyer in Philadelphia. He says that the second part of your father's will has been discovered. The only thing he mentioned is that he left a nice sum, unlike what we thought."

Rose's eyes widened, taking the telegram from Ruth's hands. "Really? Where has it been all this time?" She thought of her father and his love of puzzles and mystery novels. Rose would've done the same thing, but anger flooded her good judgment. Because her father had hidden part of his will, she almost had to marry a violent, egocentric man who she never cared for. The bruises glared at her on her ghostly pale skin.

Jack stirred, and Rose's fury settled down into affection. She was very much in love with Jack. How could she not remember their time together? "Jack," she giggled, poking his arm. "Wake up."

He opened and rubbed his sleepy eyes. "What time is it?" he mumbled, cracking his bones.

Rose's smile was stuck on her face. "It's eight, I think." She rubbed his hand. "I remember some things, Jack."

Jack looked taken back. "You do?" he asked, his lips forming a wide smile. "What?"

Ruth watched as her daughter threw her head back and laughed, explaining to Jack what she had told her. A sour feeling spread in her mouth. Whatever she found in this boy was too complex for her to understand.


	22. Night of Promises

**Fun Fact #22: Awaiting the End**

**The **_**Titanic**_**'s orchestra, led by Wallace Hartley, consisted of seven musicians. On the night of the sinking, they played cheerful music in the lounge to comfort first-class passengers; they then moved to the boat deck foyer; and finally, the boat deck. However, the last song the band ever played is still debated today. In ****Titanic: An Illustrated History****, a number of passengers heard "Nearer My God to Thee" (as heard in the 1997 film), which was immediately claimed as the last song Hartley and the others ever played. But Major Peuchen in lifeboat six said that he heard the cheery tune of "Alexander's Ragtime Band"; Marconi officer Harold Bride stated that it was "Autumn." Another popular theory other than "Nearer My God to Thee" was the waltz "Song d'Automne." Eventually the band abandoned their instruments and tried to save themselves. Sadly, none of them survived.**

**Chapter 21**

**Night of Promises**

By the time the sun set in the distance and rose in the morning, there was only one day left until they would sail into New York. Rose had recovered most of her memory, but the sinking was still fuzzy. Her pain, also, was healing quite well.

While Ruth was just getting up, feeling exhausted and disgusting, Rose had already been awake for most of the night, her mind haunted with nightmares. Every time she closed her eyes, she could hear the dying screams that echoed in the distance, quieting down to mere whispers on that frigid, moonless night. The piercing pain in her back had only made the spreading numbing feeling around her body worse; after all, the water _was_ freezing.

Mr. Andrews, Tommy, and Fabrizio, who she had not seen since they boarded, flooded her mind. Helga, who she had seen get safely into a lifeboat, had been standing stiffly on the deck, looking out at the sea with sightless eyes leaking tears. Or so Jack told her.

She was sitting on the hospital bed holding Jack's hand, which was caressing her knuckles gently with his fingers. Dark circles adorned their eyes, Rose's especially. She was lost in thought, barely noticing Jack's worried glances, when a horrifying pain ripped through her head.

_There was the sound of metal tearing which sent her stomach to a sickening drop. With as much strength as she could muster, she held on with dear life as the dream ship split between the last two funnels, causing more people to drop and more debris to scatter. She could feel her heart caught in her throat, pounding furiously in her chest. She dared herself to look down, terror etched in her blue-green eyes; the water was so far below. If she let go, her chances of survival were slim._

_As the ship split, gallons upon gallons of water were trying to fill the space the gap left behind, causing a dangerous suction. The frail iron bonds that still kept the bow and the stern together finally snapped, and, to her horror, the broken section started to drop. _

_She felt her twisted stomach shift up to her chest, the wind blowing her hair around her pale, porcelain face. She looked up fast enough to look into her lover's eyes, but then that was all she saw before experiencing that falling sensation, becoming faster and faster until…_

_Her grip must've slipped from the railing. That was all she remembered before her solid body hit concrete, and she passed out. _

Rose inhaled sharply, the memories straining her unrecovered head. Through the dilated pupil of her light eyes, she could see the dark water surrounding her, small lights seeping through from the stars. She was surrounded by darkness and filled with a pain that felt like a dagger had cut open her back. She heard Jack cry out her name, but by that time she had already fallen to what was supposed to be her doom. But instead, out of miraculous circumstances, she had lived.

Tears pooled out of her eyes and she started to sob. Jack's arms wrapped around her frail body, and she collapsed thankfully on to his shoulder. The drops leaked through his thin cotton shirt, and she shivered as recollections of the water penetrating her skin traveled up her swollen spine.

"I remember now," she managed to whisper, her voice coming out as a croak. "I remember…"

…

Meanwhile, Ruth was having a splendid time dining in the _Carpathia_'s first-class dining saloon. Compared to the _Titanic_, it was half the size or less. She wanted to sneer but kept her ladylike position. Even after Cal's loss and having to witness the sinking firsthand, she still put manners and ethics pressing down on her stiff shoulders. But even she knew that things would never be the same. Everything weighed heavily on her, and everything felt so different.

She knew she should've visited her daughter before going off to eat breakfast, but the toll of what the past few days had taken on her emptied her stomach. She could only imagine what Rose must be going through; had she even eaten a morsel since the tragedy occurred?

Ruth sighed through her teeth, clearly agitated. "Tardiness! Such a disrespectable habit!" she muttered. She had made plans with Margaret and the Countess of Rothes to dine in the early morning. Rumors spread that the courageous Countess had bravely manned the tiller of lifeboat eight, and out of politeness she begged the tired-looking Lucy to reiterate her tale. Unlike Ruth, who didn't do anything of significance in lifeboat six, hoped that she wouldn't mind; after all, people love to brag, and heroism gave them that right.

At that moment, Margaret and the esteemed Countess of Rothes entered the small room, quickly spotting the empty table Ruth was patiently waiting at. She stiffened as they approached; both looked as though they were plastering weak smiles on their pale, lethargic faces.

Ruth stood up to greet them. "Good morning, Ruth," the Countess said, letting out a sigh. "It's a pleasure to be here and get together with some good friends. Especially after the event that has taken place…"

The three sat down and enjoyed to their best ability a basic breakfast. They mostly talked and prodded at their food, their stomachs still weak after a long night of basking in the cold air.

"I'm so sorry to hear about your daughter," the Countess gushed compassionately. Sorrow reflected off her dark eyes. "It must be terrible to have to comfort her after the loss of Cal!" The corner of Ruth's lips twitched, but she didn't reply. "After I let my cousin accompany me with steering the lifeboat, I went to comfort this poor Spanish woman. Her name was Maria and…"

Ruth blocked out the rest, no longer having the care to listen to the Countess's gallant tale. Her mind was on Rose, and how adorable and beautiful she looked when she was five years old. Then her mind reflected on one of their previous servants, Jack Dawson, the one Rose favored. How could she not see the adoration before? When she had sent Jack away, Rose's face held that of hopelessness and despair. But with an impoverished life like Mr. Dawson's, she could never take the chance to learn what a fifteen-year-old boy was like without raging hormones. And so she had sent him away.

At Rose's coming-out party, she had met the promising Caledon Hockley of Pittsburgh. She'd always adored Americans, for she was of British descent though born and raised in Pennsylvania. Immediately she sought out the opportunity to give Rose her life back, where she would have a husband and riches to support them and a future family.

Ruth's mouth tasted sour. Guilt clogged her selfish heart. What future family would there have been if Rose was terrified just to be around Cal? What hopes and signs were there of a successful marriage? Images of her daughter running around in the backyard of their Philadelphian home with that stable boy glared at her, making her shift her blue eyes in discomfort.

Her daughter was a little girl no longer. She understood that now. But could she trust Rose to make grown-up decisions? She took a sip of her tea and pushed the thought aside, deciding to deal with the matter later.

…

Rose's sensitive eyes squinted from the bright sunlight, something she felt like she hadn't seen or felt in centuries. Jack had one arm around her shoulder and the other delicately on her back. Occasionally he would give her a soothing kiss on the cheek. She felt embarrassed for she had hobbled all the way from the infirmary to the deck, frustrated at her uselessness.

"When was the last time I had seen the sun?" she commented, but the question was simply rhetorical.

The pair made their way to the railing, Rose's stomach wanting to hurl at the sight of the lapping waves. A scowl appeared on her pretty features as they both rested on the railing, the wind blowing gently on their sickly cheeks. Her eyes flickered around the watery scene, a bitter taste in her mouth. "Has it always been this cool?" she asked, hoping the topic of the weather would keep them away from certain subjects she did not want to speak of. (Cal and the sinking, more specifically.)

Jack shrugged. His mind for the past few days had been occupied with thoughts of Rose and her grateful recovery. "I haven't really noticed, I guess."

Rose sighed, leaning a clammy hand on her cold cheek. "It feels like yesterday we were still in Southampton, doesn't it?"

Jack glanced at his friend's face, seeing the grief pasted on her beautiful irises. She was all right; she was alive. Slowly tears filled his eyes and he beckoned them not to spill. He was about to wipe them away with a quick dab of his sleeve when Rose saw him.

Her sharp features softened at the sight. Jack's blue eyes were swarming with unshed tears, and guilt weighed down Rose's shoulders. How could she have been so unaware of the fact that through her own misery, Jack was struggling just as much?

Rose gulped and looked away, searching for the right words to come off her delicate tongue. Jack, however, spoke as though sensing her discomfort. "Fabri and Tommy…," he croaked, and he pushed his head into his hands, ashamed.

Rose took a deep breath and fidgeted with her dirty fingernails. Their dead faces had haunted her dreams. She had met Fabrizio many times, and they were good friends. As for Tommy, she didn't really know him, but she trusted him and they both fought hard until the end. She felt her eyes tearing up too, and she put a comforting shoulder around Jack and pulled him close.

"I miss them too, Jack," she whispered, meaning it. "I miss them too…"

…

_April 18, 1912_

The next night, the _Carpathia_ sailed smoothly into Pier Fifty-Four of New York Harbor. The _Titanic_ disaster had only happened three days ago, but as the first-class survivors disembarked into the mob of reporters and cameramen, to a certain couple it felt like three years.

Rose's damp hair flowed down her back as she looked up at the sign of her freedom. However, she never would have imagined that this was how her first meeting with the Statue of Liberty was going to be.

She still had the same clothes on as she did on that dreadful day of April fifteenth, and she still bore the heavy coat around her shoulders. She was just relieved she no longer had to wear the lifejacket. Sighing heavily, she let the images of the past few days jumble her brain.

"Hey," she heard a familiar voice say, but she didn't turn around. A hand tenderly took her arm. "There you are."

Rose dared not look in Jack's face, for she knew that if she did she would surely cry again. Instead, she surprised him when she said, "Do you remember, on my birthday a few years ago, Monet's _Water Lilies_?"

Jack followed her gaze and saw the intimidating pose of the Statue of Liberty. They were in New York at last.

When he didn't answer, Rose turned her head and took a step closer, taking his hands in hers. "Do you remember the shooting star?"

Jack numbly nodded his head, his thoughts jumping all around from memories with Rose to his friendship with Fabrizio. He wiped a calloused hand across his cheek to make sure he wouldn't cry again.

She put her hand on the cheek he had just touched and forced him to look at her. Rose smiled weakly when his dashing blue eyes finally met hers and his hand intertwined with the one on his cheek. "All those drawings you tried to hide from me," she said, mocking him.

"For a good reason, they were of you!" Jack scoffed, placing a light kiss on her palm. Rose bit her lip to prevent her smile from growing wider.

It was strange how the world worked, how at one moment you could be feeling terribly down and then the next you were extremely happy. But it was time to say good bye and put these harsh times in the back of their heads, only to be remembered when absolutely necessary.

"Promise me one thing," Rose whispered, inching her face closer to his so their lips were almost touching.

"Anything." Jack could feel her warm breath on his cheek.

"Promise me that once we get off this floating death trap, we'll never get on a boat again!" Jack laughed, breaking their intimate bond for one moment to stop his laughter. When he looked at Rose again, she was smiling, and affection was printed on her experienced irises.

Taking her hands in his, he played with her fingers tenderly before putting their foreheads together. "Now promise me one thing," he said, Rose shutting her eyes.

"Anything," she reiterated, making it more of a whisper.

"Don't ever leave me again."

Rose gulped as she leaned in even closer, their lips only a mere inch apart. "I promise," she murmured into her skin before breaking the selfish distance keeping them apart and touched her lips upon his.

When they finally broke apart, the kiss left Rose ecstatic and certain. Lingering confusion drifted off, leaving her only with the passionate love she felt in her heart. She laid her head on Jack's shoulder, letting him pull her into a well-needed hug. She closed her eyes, wanting to savor the moment of their freedom together for as long as she lived.

"Did you know what I wished for on the night I rejected you, Jack?" Rose sighed, pushing aside that miserable night but letting sweet memories envelope her thoughts.

"Hm?" he mumbled, nuzzling his nose into her soft hair.

A small smile appeared on her content lips as she replied, "Something I couldn't have."


	23. One Last Vow

**Fun Fact #23: Dogs on the **_**Titanic**_

**Beloved dog lover Marty Crisp wrote a children's book detailing the friendship between a boy and an Irish setter titled ****White Star: A Dog on the **_**Titanic**_**. Though there were no Irish setters on the ship, what exactly did happen to the nine dogs onboard? Out of all the survivors there were three canines: a Pekinese (owned by Henry Harper) and two Pomeranians. The Astors had their two Airedales and the Carters their small dogs, one a King Charles spaniel. Philadelphian banker Robert Daniel had his French bulldog nicknamed Pye with him. He put a lifejacket on his prized dog before jumping in, but Pye managed to escape; the lifejacket was too big. The bulldog was later spotted by R.N. Williams, but he did not survive. One dog enthusiast of a passenger, Ann Isham, refused to get into a lifeboat without her dog Toujours, considered to be a Great Dane. She was spotted later in the morning with her arms wrapped around him in the water. And a newly wedded couple, the Bishops, had their small pet Frou Frou with them. Sadly, Frou Frou was left locked in their cabin, and when Robert Ballard discovered the wreck in 1985, he swore he heard barks coming from cabin B-49.**

**Chapter ****22**

**One Last Vow**

With the rain soaking her sallow skin, Ruth couldn't have been in a sourer mood. Huffing, she wrapped the thin jacket she had been wearing for the past three days tighter around her shoulders, shivering under the sensation of the cold rain slicking back her red hair. She took a gloved hand and smoothed it over her sopping wet locks, licking her parched lips.

The line extended in front of Ruth, bodies of first-class _Titanic_ survivors blocking her closest way to land. She turned around and stood on the tip of her toes, her head poking out of the shoulders of grief-stricken women. "Where is my daughter?" she asked haughtily, rolling her eyes and crossing her arms at her chest.

Margaret frowned and raised an eyebrow in annoyance. "Are you really that worried that she'll do something she'll regret later?"

Ruth's lips pursed. She began fixing her perfect gloves. "No, I'm just worried what _he _will do to her," she snapped back coldly.

Margaret sighed and shook her head. "Jack's a sweet boy, Ruth. I don't know why you'd even think that."

The two stood there in silence, Ruth trying to calm her raging thoughts. She simply loathed that steerage boy, running around with her daughter and probably caught up in reckless behavior. Honestly, did men have any more class?

She cleared her throat and turned around, searching for Rose again. When she didn't see her, she closed her eyes and put a numb hand to her throbbing forehead. "The first thing I'm doing when I get off this blasted boat," she mumbled, her feet practically stumbling over the people in front of her as the line finally started to move, "is down a cup of hot tea."

…

Rose waited patiently for Jack while staring at the hopeful Statue of Liberty; she had been cleared by the doctor that afternoon and recommended a week of rest and a prescription for her back pain. In the pouring rain, Jack had rubbed her arms, both of them trembling from the cold, and even through her protests he still insisted on going to find a couple mugs of hot tea. She brushed aside a strand of reddish hair from her clammy forehead, remembering the sweet memories she had in Pennsylvania.

Of course, there were very few before she met Jack, and that had been at the tender age of six. Though years had passed and she was now a seventeen-year-old girl, she still remembered her father's warm touch as she sat on his knee. The puzzles he'd make were the grandest contraptions she'd ever seen. She remembered his wood shop in the backyard, where he'd go and carve the most bizarre things she'd ever seen and then put them all together in a jumbled cube or other prism. The feel of the carving knife in her hand became stronger.

Yes, her father liked puzzles. He also liked games. So when her father's will was only half-recovered, she wasn't surprised by the search party.

It was a secret she had to keep from Jack – and everyone, in that matter – because her mother was afraid their place in society would drop. After all, half a will missing meant that only half the wealth was there.

The reading of the first half of the will took place two days after her father had died. She had sullenly sat in the mahogany chair in what _was_ his office, two of his favorite wooden contraptions propped on the shiny desk next to a picture of him and his daughter. Tears came rushing to her eyes, but she forbade them from spilling; wasn't that what a funeral was for?

It wasn't a surprise that she dreaded the funeral. In fact, it was quite normal. She had the option of not going, but she felt as though that would make her a disgrace. She barely paid attention to the lawyer that walked in and took a seat, which immediately made her flare up: that was her _father's _chair, the one _he_ had bought in Egypt twelve years ago, the one _he_ cherished because his daughter had picked it out for him.

Rose could still remember the camels that spit and the jewelry that gleamed. The embroidery was stunning, and her three-year-old eyes couldn't help but land on the prettiest cushion. That is, young Rose _thought_ it was a cushion. She struggled to pick it up, not fully comprehending that it was sturdily sewn on to elegantly carved wood. Her father, chuckling, had come up behind her, picking her light body up with his large hands.

"My little rose petal," he laughed, showing her the full view of the expensive piece of furniture. "Look, it's a chair."

"Chair," Rose had repeated, storing the word in her memory. She wasn't stupid – she _knew_ what a chair was - but who could tell something so soft and puffy was a chair? Unlike the wooden chairs they had at home in Pennsylvania, which had probably the smallest amount of cotton stuffed in the seat, this one was overflowing in velvety fabric.

Rose's flaming face scowled at the lawyer, and again memories of her on her father's knee in that exact chair made her anger build up more. However, she was knocked out of her fury when certain words pierced the air.

"—the second half of the will, however, has not been found," the lawyer said, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. Rose couldn't help but not listen before; he _did_ have a boring face, and it wasn't like he was some young, dashing college student. This man had gray streaks in his hair and weirdly shaped moles on his neck.

Ruth stiffened next to her, and worry immediately began to eat up her envious anger. "What did this first half state?"

The lawyer cleared his throat, as though he was going to tell bad news. Beads of sweat started to burst on Rose's clammy palms. "Well, the first half only lists certain possessions that each family member will inherit. But, it never mentioned any large inheritance—"

"You mean money?" Ruth interrupted, her posture becoming the closest Ruth DeWitt Bukater can ever get to a slouch. He nodded solemnly, and she bravely asked, "Was there anything of worth stated in the will?"

He shook his head, confirming their fears. "If you're into codes or mixed messages, then that's all that was there."

Rose unexpectedly got up from the chair, running out of the room. She leaned against the wall, her breathing turning heavy. She didn't want to believe that her father was some gambler who drank all their money away. She had never seen him in a drunken state, and yet –

"Rose?" a familiar blond called, his blue eyes sympathetic. "I heard about what happened." Rose ran so fast, she nearly mauled him over as she wrapped her arms around him and began to sob.

"Jack…," she cried, unable to conceive words. What did she possibly have left to say? Her father was gone, and she was his darling rose petal. They shared secrets together and solved puzzles and made riddles.

Rose was about to recall a certain riddle her father used to tell her, when Jack appeared with two cups of what appeared to be hot cocoa in his hands. "They only had hot chocolate," he explained, handing her a mug.

"Thank you," she replied, her mind numb from the cold and the memories.

They stood there in silence, Rose warming up her fingers as heat from the hot liquid seeped in through her skin. Everything from the past few days to the past few years suddenly overwhelmed her, and she had this urge to tell Jack everything that he didn't know that he should have a long time ago.

"Jack," she croaked, catching his attention. Her eyes displayed overwhelming confession, and Jack crinkled his eyebrows a little, wondering what she had to say. She licked her lips and spilled out, without comprehending what she was saying, "When my father died, they uncovered his will. You were told that all the money was gone; I trusted you with that. But there was something my mother wanted us to keep secret, something we've been praying would turn our lives around for the past two years…

"Only half of my father's will was recovered, Jack. That meant that even though it seemed like we were left with nothing, there was still a whole other part that needed to be found. We've hired investigators, but they stopped searching a few months after his death. Since then, we stopped thinking about it. But now…" She faltered, not knowing how to make her words come out the way she wanted them to.

"But now you've thought about it again?" Jack filled in for her.

"Yes, but I think there might be something I didn't think of befo—"

"Rose!"

Rose was about to turn around when a bony hand grabbed ahold of her arm, startling her. "Mother!" she exclaimed as hot cocoa splashed over the side of her mug. "You scared me!"

Ruth exhaled, clearly exasperated. "Rose, we're getting off this ship. Now." She took the cup out of her daughter's hand and handed it to a passing steward.

"Mother!" Rose cried, pulling away her arm. She let Jack's arms embrace her. "We're getting off with the third class."

Ruth shook her head annoyingly, not knowing how her daughter could be so silly. No matter how much she disliked it, she needed to get off this boat before she went insane. "No worries, Rose. Jack's coming with us."

…

Ruth, Rose, Jack, and Margaret all disembarked the ship in a dazed hassle. None of them really paid attention to their surroundings – except for Jack, that is, who became worried when Rose looked like she was about to be sick all over the crowded pier.

Rose's first step on land, and she stumbled. She prepared for the reporters to snatch her and parade her with questions, but she felt Jack's strong arms wrap around her abdomen, pulling her back up. "Watch where you're going," he teased, causing a smile to appear on her green face.

"I'm so used to a rocking boat, I guess land makes me feel nauseous," she commented jokingly, wishing she had some painkillers. Her back still ached peevishly.

"I don't think there's such a thing as land sickness," Jack played along, wrapping a muscular arm around her shoulder and pulling her closer.

The crowd soon began to thin out, and Rose was relieved that they no longer had to deal with the questions that were pushed in front of her face. She was horrified by the countless reporters. "These people just witnessed a tragedy and you have the nerve to ask them to repeat it?"she wanted to scream in their desperate ears.

The four stopped when they reached a calm section of the city, clearly without a plan. "Well," Ruth said bitterly as she reflected on the past, "we have no money. Where do we stay?"

Margaret barked out a laugh, making Ruth flush in embarrassment. "Ruth, do you not see all these signs welcoming survivors in for free?"

Ruth scoffed. "But they're _filthy_." She shot a glance at Jack and Rose, who had separated themselves from the group. Jack was whispering something in Rose's ear, a wide smile on both their faces. She started to laugh, which added to the migraine that was forming in her skull.

"They're decent, Ruth. Would you rather sleep on the streets?"

Ruth finally agreed, but only because she didn't want to pick up a fight. All she had left was her pride and her dignity, and even though her daughter was foolish enough to throw it away, she wasn't about to let it get taken from her.

…

After they had checked into a middle-class hotel, Rose claimed the bed closest to the window, farthest from the door as her own. She had become so tired between the time they left the _Carpathia_ to when they reached the hotel – and let's not forget the bickering in between of where to stay – Jack had to carry her the rest of the way there. She had climbed on to his back and buried her face in his warm shirt, wishing she could stay like that forever.

So it was no surprise that she plopped down on to the bed between consciousness and a dream world, her spine relaxing from the stiff walk up the stairs. "Tired?" Jack joked, changing into a pair of boxers a kind man had let him borrow for the night. He went over to lay the nightgown the man's wife had let Rose borrow on the bed, fighting the urge to kiss her soft lips.

Rose popped an eye open, the perfect answer on the tip of her tongue, but she faltered as a blush rose to her neck. She tried to ignore the fact that he was shirtless, repeatedly saying in her mind, "I'm a teenage girl. I think every guy who's shirtless is cute," but there was something about Jack's toned body that made her skin prickle.

Okay, so maybe she had exaggerated. Obviously not _every_ shirtless guy was attractive – like when she saw her old butler, Charles, getting ready to go to the local pool – and who was she kidding? Jack had a seriously ripped abdomen every girl would melt over.

She also tried to hide the guilt that crept up in her face, because the bandage that hid the bullet wound was still wrapped around him. She felt guilt for the person who caused it (her fiancé) and the fact she had completely forgotten about it for days. He was so worried for her health, how could she forget about his obvious physical detriment?

But in the end, she didn't want to believe Cal was dead; no matter how cruel he could be, she still didn't believe that he deserved to die.

She cleared her throat, clearly flustered. She shut her eyes casually and shifted her position, trying to hide the fact she had been drooling over thoughts of his impressive form. Jack smiled widely, sadly noticing what Rose was trying to hide. "No one can help it. Girls dig me," he teased, hoping to get some form of jealousy.

Rose sighed dramatically, clearly not buying it. "Why make up an act, Mr. Dawson?" She decided to make fun of him. "I see absolutely nothing the least bit attractive."

"Whoa," Jack said, putting his hands up in defense. "That was harsh."

She smiled to herself as her ears picked up the sound of Jack shuffling into bed. She then got up and agonizingly slid across the bed, the pain still lingering in her body, but pleased by the way her dress hiked up to her thigh as she did so. She could feel Jack's eyes on her. She fiddled playfully with the hem of the gown. "I need to change," she said, twisting a finger around in her hair.

Meanwhile, Margaret and Ruth occupied the room right next door. As Margaret got ready for bed, she couldn't help but notice Ruth pressed against the wall with her ear on high alert. "Ruth," she said, raising her eyebrows, "They're not going to do anything."

Rose stepped into the bathroom giggling. She had caught Jack's eyes looking at more than just her face, and she loved how flustered he got when she exclaimed, "Aha! I saw you!"

Slipping out of the lilac dress she'd had on for the past three days, she pulled on the beautiful nightgown with the white lace embroidery. She was stunned by how elegant it was and how it brought out her figure nicely. She couldn't believe someone would let a complete stranger borrow it.

The bathroom light caught on something shiny around Rose's neck, and she leaned over the sink to get a closer look. Her eyes softened when she saw the silver key that she had worn around her neck for the past year. When she reached up and touched the cold metal, memories flooded her; she remembered the drawer back in Southampton that held all of her souvenirs with Jack. She'd completely forgotten about it.

_Better there than at the bottom of the ocean._

She combed through her hair with her fingers and then washed her face with soap and water. She looked bright and fresh, ready for a new life with Jack. She practically glowed; she couldn't be happier.

Taking one last look at the chain around her neck, she yanked it off and stared at the pretty key in her palm. She ran the water and dropped it down the drain, watching it swirl around before disappearing beneath the circular hole.

Now that she was back home with her true love, she wasn't going back.

…

That night, Rose laid awake as she listened to Jack's soft snores in the twin bed next to hers. She didn't know why she was lying with her eyes open, and that frustrated her. Turning over on her right side, she grabbed the clock and squinted to read the time: 1:34 in the morning.

Sighing, she put it back on the nightstand and stared at Jack's sleeping form for a couple minutes. Then, she crawled out of her bed and snuck over to the edge of Jack's, hesitant. She wanted to poke him awake, but would that be too childish? Being the adult she was, she decided to make the more flirtatious decision.

Clearing her throat silently, she walked over to the end of the bed and crawled on top of the bed sheets, avoiding Jack's feet. She scuttled over his frame and whispered, "Jack." She would've preferred kissing his eyelids until he woke up, but she thought that would be a little much.

"Jack," she repeated, shaking him a bit. He snorted awake, his blue eyes meeting Rose's without comprehending anything. Once he realized it was her draped over him, he shimmied up as Rose sat back down on her heels.

"Rose?" he murmured, rubbing his eyes. "Is everything okay?"

She nodded, suddenly feeling stupid for waking him up. "I just couldn't fall asleep." She winced and rubbed her back. "And it still hurts."

He put a warm arm around her lower back, protecting her from the pain. "Do you want to talk or something?" he suggested.

She shook her head. "No," she uttered, barely a whisper. "Can I stay here with you tonight instead?"

Jack was taken aback a little, but he wasn't hesitant when he replied with a friendly "Sure" and scooted over on the bed to make room for Rose. She snuck under the covers and huddled as close as she could next to Jack. When she was finally comfortable, she sighed contently and closed her eyes.

She could feel his hand patting her head, matting down her curls. She loved the way he would play with her hair; she loved everything about him.

"You'll never be cold again, Rose," he promised, the words absorbing in her ear. She curled up closer to him. "I promise."


	24. A Sudden Discovery

**Author's Note: We're back to never-before-seen chapters! I hope you've been enjoying this story. Did you know I've been writing this for over a year now? And remember: Review, review, review!  
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**Fun Fact #24: Le Coeur de la Mer**

**Rose's heart-shaped hunk of a necklace has some history with it, too. In the beginning of the movie, Brock Lovett says that it came from the French Blue Diamond of the Crown at around the same time King Louis XVI was executed. This jewel traces back to the Hope Diamond, the largest blue diamond in the world – and also cursed. Rumor says that the Hope Diamond brings bad luck upon anyone who touches it, explaining the French royal family's death sentence and the story of a mailman who delivered the diamond but ended up losing his wife, his kids, and even his home. Though the Hope Diamond never sailed and the **_**Titanic**_** and the Heart of the Ocean never existed, you can't help but think: No wonder Rose had such bad luck!**

**Chapter 23**

**A Sudden Discovery**

Jack woke up the next morning to the persistent sound of light knocking on the door. His instincts told him to run and answer it, but his tense muscles immediately loosened when he saw the redheaded beauty lying on his chest.

Her gorgeous curls were elegantly sprawled over his torso, her arm draped over his side. It was obviously something she did unknowingly in her sleep, but it made his heart swell all the same. Her impeccable features, highlighted by the dark circles under her eyes, gave off a lovely glow, and Jack didn't want to wake up the sleeping angel.

"Mr. Dawson, may I ask what you're doing in there?" He heard Ruth's cold voice muffled through the wooden door. "I say, what does it take to wake a man up these days?" she mumbled more to herself.

Rose began to stir and Jack decided it was better now than before to answer Ruth's tireless tone and exasperated knocks. Righting himself up, he gently scooted Rose's hand away from him and opened the door.

Ruth's mouth was open, about to ramble on some more, but she shut it when Jack appeared in the doorway. "Good morning," she said coldly, eying Rose's neatly made bed.

Jack smiled, wanting to burst out laughing at Ruth's strict material. "Good morning," he replied politely; after all, he still wanted her to like him.

"Maggie and I are going to head out to breakfast soon. Would you like to join us?"

He was about to respond when a sleepy redhead appeared behind him, rubbing her eyes. "We'd love to, Mother," she sighed while wrapping her arms around Jack's neck. "We'll be down in a few minutes."

Ruth's nose twitched subtly as Rose closed the door behind her, plopping down on the bed, Jack trailing behind her. She sighed and stared at the ceiling, her hand on her stomach. For a few moments she stayed like that, a hundred different kinds of emotions reflecting off her glazed eyes, before making a statement. "I feel as though we've aged ten years," she said thoughtfully, her mind processing the memories of the last few months. Jack shimmied onto the small bed next to her, watching her think. He would never imagine disrupting her.

Her face turned sorrowful as her mind brought up the sinking. "I still think that if I hadn't been so blind that night so many months ago, this never would have happened." Tears welled in her eyes. "And it would just be me and you, without knowing the tragedy of those people." She had to stop, feeling her voice choke. "_Truly _know. Our friends…"

And she started to sob. The whole time she was recovering on the _Carpathia_, she had the nightmares. It was a reason why she couldn't sleep last night. Even in her pleasant position next to Jack, they still tortured her, just not as insistently because he had his strong arms around her, reminding her that the dream wasn't real.

Each night she replayed the sinking, but each time it ended chillingly. After all they'd been through, all the obstacles they'd dodged, there was her Jack, frozen to the core in the North Atlantic. And she was there to witness his death. Every time she just _had _to turn around on her back to look at the sky, still holding his hand, even though her mind was screaming for her to stop. _Keep watching him! _she'd yell to her ignorant illusion. _Before it's too late! _

But when the boats finally came back, she tried to wake him up. There was no response. His skin was a sickly blue color; his hair and eyes crusted over with ice. And after calling his name several times and shaking his hand, which was cold to the touch, there would be this glimmer of hope in her eyes, a small smile on her face. And each and every time that expression would fall, and the answer punched her in the gut: He was dead. His eyes, those beautiful, soulful eyes, would never open again. His artist hands would never skim across fresh paper. But the worst part for her was always this: The time before the ship went under was the last time she had felt his embrace, and that was finalized by the torturous dark ocean.

She had lost her best friend, that one person she could tell anything to. Ten years, wasted. Rose would always wake up with prickling dread haunting her mind, only to see that Jack was alive and healthy, aside from some pneumonia and a horrible bullet wound, right beside her. And he was holding her hand, just like he always did.

Now Jack pulled her into a comforting hug where even he couldn't hide his struggle anymore. He cried mournfully, for he never got to say goodbye to Fabrizio or Tommy. He saw Helga on the deck of the rescue ship, staring lifelessly at the ocean, but he never told her what Fabri had told him right before they parted: That he loved Helga, and wished that he could've had more time with her. It was the one secret that would torture Jack for years to come. He had then witnessed her leaving the ship, heading anywhere away from the place that had taken her family and her lover. He knew he would never see her again.

Rose knew without a doubt that the horrors they had been through would always haunt her, but she hoped that they would heal over the time she would spend with Jack. They could make it work; after all, they were young. They had so much ahead of them. Maybe they'd get married, have a couple of kids, live out their dreams. Maybe they'd get that perfect home on the coast in that one place they'd always dreamed of going: Santa Monica.

She smiled slightly through her tears, remembering their Santa Monica desire. She'd been eight when they came up with the idea to go someplace warm, fun, and free. She'd never been to a beach before, and neither had Jack. He said that he'd heard of a place in California where there was a whole pier stretched out over the sea covered with roller coasters. Since then, it was Rose's ambition to go there with him some day. Maybe, now that they were old enough to do whatever they wanted, they would accomplish that.

Rose knew that the _Titanic _wouldn't be easy to forget. She felt utterly exhausted, but under that lurked a new, experienced person. Looking back on it, as she held Jack closer, she couldn't believe how stupid she had been. Was she still only seventeen? To her, she felt like she was thirty.

So she decided as she was getting ready to go to breakfast that new morning that Rose DeWitt Bukater had died with the _Titanic_, and Rose Dawson had been born.

…

_They were still too wrapped up in each other's embrace to notice the pouring rain, the luminous statue, and the weeping women and children around them. But by the time they broken apart, their love lasted long enough to not be overwhelmed by the situation. Eventually, the loving gaze cracked, and what they had gone through took over their minds again._

_A crew member with an umbrella, looking sympathetic and flawless in his suit, walked around with a clipboard. Some of the surviving passengers of the RMS _Titanic _pleaded for him to find a name on his list, much too small for a luxury liner that held a floating city. The numbers were uncertain; some three-hundred so bodies recovered, but almost half had to be buried at sea. There was still hope – Maybe he was picked up by another ship? Could there have been a mistake or a forgotten lifeboat? But many found their swelling hope consumed by the harsh reality, and their hearts had to accept that he was gone._

_Rose couldn't help but feel guilty. Not only had her lover survived, but they could continue their lives together. Many of the women had spent their last night with their husbands, and now they had to fight on in solitude. Some were left childless with nothing to remember their loved one by but for a wedding ring; some were left with his children, their faces hauntingly resembling his, and at a loss for work. What did she do to deserve Jack's presence? She certainly didn't have children that could end up fatherless or a home that they had built together. All they had was each other, their friendship and their memories. What did she have that the other women didn't?_

_She felt like she was at everyone's fault, just a lucky woman to blame. She buried her nose in Jack's wet shirt before hearing the words that slammed her into epiphany: This was real. It had all happened. This wasn't some dream._

"_Can I have your names please?" the steward asked, his pen poised and ready to jot down the titles of the few survivors. To Rose, it shriveled up her hope and meant that she could no longer live like it was an impossible delusion. She had to move on._

_Jack rubbed her back and replied, "Jack and Rose Dawson."_

_At first, Rose was shocked. Did she hear him right? But then again, he knew that she no longer wanted to be a DeWitt Bukater, a socialite engaged to the now deceased Caledon Hockley. No, she was a Dawson, and that's all she ever wanted to be._

…

The first thing Ruth noticed when her daughter and her admirer stepped into the dining hall was her lifeless stare. Her eyes had captivated the same daunting look when the _Carpathia_ had rescued them a few days prior. She knew what it meant: Rose was simply trying to recover.

But even Ruth, with her years of experience, couldn't hide that she was feeling a little uneasy as well. The whole tragedy had brought them closer together, yet it had also affected their minds. Though her daughter had been a victim to the whole ordeal, Ruth had been a witness. She had watched the gigantic ship go down, split horribly in half, and plunge into the waters, never to be seen again. She might never imagine what it must have been like to be on the grandest ocean liner in the world as it slipped from the world above, but she did know what it was like to see it all happen – and could do nothing about it.

Maggie had tried to persuade the crewman in lifeboat six to go back. She had had enough of watching the women sob hopelessly when they could try and pick up some men in the water. But he had only told her to shut up, and Ruth's eyes had continued to stare unresponsively at a blonde woman, her blue eyes full of tears, who glanced up at Maggie and then looked down at her lap again, rubbing the wedding ring under her gloved hand. And then there was the older woman with her two children, one around Rose's age…

Rose. Ruth had tried to connect with Rose since the day she was born, but she had always been rebellious and stubborn. She loved her father dearly, and she couldn't be her daughter's favorite if all she did was fight with her role model. And then the servant boy came into the picture, and she watched them every day out the bedroom window as they grew up to be the adults they were today.

No one knew it, but Ruth had always been washed away by guiltiness and betrayal. She was bored of watching her daughter play around with her father, tired of seeing the annoyed expression in her eyes when she tried to correct her posture. She was trying to be a _good _mother, but in the end she failed to make a difference.

So Ruth, through her depressing thoughts of failure, didn't expect the embrace. Rose wrapped her arms around her and pulled her into a well-needed hug, a touching moment they hadn't shared in years. Over her shoulder she saw Jack give a small smile, and that was the first time she realized that maybe she hadn't done such a bad job after all.

The rest of the morning went by peacefully. There were no more bitter retorts, no more longing looks at the open door. They had finally put aside their ways.

Later that day, the small group retired to Ruth and Maggie's hotel room. Rose and Jack lounged on the bed nearest the window, laughing and talking. It seemed like another happy moment in their relationship, but only if you didn't see Ruth, who was frustrated, and Maggie, who was trying to be helpful, huddled over the desk at a printed telegram.

"I don't understand," Ruth said, reading it again carefully. "Apparently they've found a hidden message on the first half of the will." She snorted; she felt like she was in some science fiction novel. Her eyes skimmed the note. "It was written in invisible ink, and I'm not surprised. Rose and her father always played around with lemon juice. She _loved _seeing the words appear when heated up under a candle."

"Do you know what the message means?" Maggie asked with a wrinkled brow.

Rose let out a loud laugh in the background. "No," Ruth mumbled, shaking her head. "I've never heard Charles use 'time warp' in a sentence for as long as I've known him."

Meanwhile, Jack was telling Rose a story about his younger brother, who died from illness before the fire took his family and Pennsylvanian home. It was a humorous tale that involved fishing on a nearby lake. When he was finished, he went on to teasing Rose about the first time he took her fishing, and he took her into a close hug and let her laugh obnoxiously on his shoulder. Suddenly, there was a knock at the door.

Ruth's head snapped up curiously. Rose and Jack stopped laughing and separated from each other, eying Maggie to see if she knew anything about the visitor, but all were just as confused as the next.

"Yes?" Ruth asked politely as she opened the door.

A balding man in a bellhop suit stood in front of her, an envelope in hand. "Ruth DeWitt Bukater?" he questioned.

"That is me." She took the letter before thanking him, her eyes taking in the address. "It's from our lawyer," she clarified, ripping open the message and folding it out on the desk.

Rose and Jack came up behind them and read over their shoulders. It said that their presence was needed immediately at the DeWitt Bukater estate, and that a short riddle or poem of some sort was found in a locked drawer in her father's desk.

"It involved using the most complicated key, and in the end we were stuck with some wooden puzzle that needed to be taken apart to see what was inside. After several unsuccessful times, one person was able to open it, and this note slipped out," the letter said.

It went on to describe a rose flower that lived one hundred years and witnessed history change around it, including the aging of the boy that took care of it every day it.

"'A precious rose of mine knows all,'" Rose read from the sheet, remembering this tale. "I know this. My father used to tell me this story all the time."

"No, Rose," Maggie began, her mind warped from the long, confusing day. "I think this means that you know something about the second half of your father's will."

Rose's mouth went dry and her mouth opened, but no words escaped. Jack, who had his hand on the small of Rose's back, was stunned, but then he remembered she had tried to tell him something the other day about the will. Ruth's eyebrows rose perplexedly.

Finally, words came to her and she stuttered, "I-I think I do know something…"


	25. Home at Last

**Fun Fact #25: On the Way to Stardom**

**Before **_**Titanic**_**, Leonardo DiCaprio and Kate Winslet weren't so well known. DiCaprio starred in the TV show **_**Growing Pains**_**; the movies **_**This Boy's Life, The Basketball Diaries, **_**and **_**What's Eating Gilbert Grape? **_**Winslet was in **_**Heavenly Creatures, Jude, **_**and **_**Sense and Sensibility, **_**which earned her first Oscar nomination. In 1996, they both starred in a Shakespearean movie: DiCaprio as Romeo in **_**Rome and Juliet **_**with Claire Danes and Winslet as Ophelia in **_**Hamlet **_**with Kenneth Branagh. After the success of **_**Titanic**_**, their characters Jack and Rose became a legendary film couple, and the actors were launched into stardom. Winslet became the youngest actress to receive four Academy Award nominations before the age of thirty; she finally won the Oscar for Best Actress as Hanna in **_**The Reader. **_**DiCaprio went on to star in many popular films, such as **_**The Aviator, Catch Me If You Can, The Departed, **_**and **_**Inception. **_**He currently has three Oscar nominations, but no wins.**

**Chapter 24**

**Home at Last**

Margaret's fortune was the only one that wasn't lost, so she was of course willing to buy a small wardrobe for each member of the group for their travels. Rose kept saying that she had an idea where the will may be, tucked away in one of her father's many books, but Ruth rudely commented that that was silly and the attorneys would've checked there two years ago. Jack came back with the reply that there were too many books to count, and why would it be in there? They didn't know the man. This silenced Ruth, who was certain that the mystery was solved ages ago and they just decided now to tell them, but she had no proof that this was the answer.

The cluster of friends with the pinch-faced Ruth followed pursuit on the closest shopping mall, where Rose took Jack's hand and led him straight away to the nearest boutique. Ruth scoffed at Rose's choices, thinking they were too gregarious or unstylish, but her daughter had always had certain flair. She kept playing around with Jack, cladding him with wide-brimmed hats or elegant scarves, and flashing him dramatic poses as she tried on each dress.

Ruth blinked, an unreadable look on her face, as she stared at the young couple laughing like they were the only two in the world. It wasn't until then that she realized that these were the only instances where her daughter was ever truly happy, with this Dawson boy. She then cleared her throat and looked away, following Maggie to the more sophisticated part of the store.

Once they were done, they stopped at the hotel to make sure they had everything they needed before heading off to the train station to catch the next stop to Philadelphia and purchase the four tickets that would take them there. Rose entwined her fingers in Jack's as she told him that the ride would only take a couple of hours.

And Ruth watched again as her daughter partook in that small intimate action, their eyes not even focusing on each other, but the train schedule. Yet, she could still see the attraction and the sparks. She still wished that her daughter could've chosen a more suitable husband, but what would it matter anymore? By tonight they would've found the second half of the will, and she might as well be a rich woman again. Rose could marry whomever she pleased.

The four boarded the train and sat in a rather comfortable car, ready for the short trip.

At first, the silence was awkward, but then Maggie invited Ruth on a walk around the train, and Rose and Jack were left alone.

"So we never found out who stole our letters," Rose said unexpectedly, shocking Jack.

"I guess that's a good way to start a conversation," he choked, and Rose was able to laugh even though she felt like it wasn't anything to make fun of.

She decided to change the topic to something not so mind bobbling. "I got you something," Rose said teasingly, bending forward and pulling out a wrapped present out of her suitcase. She smiled widely at Jack and handed it to him. "I know you couldn't live without this."

Jack took the smooth gift from Rose's hands and didn't even mumble thanks before ripping the paper. Rose snickered at Jack's immature behavior. "You're welcome!" she said sarcastically as he took the portfolio out of its wrapping.

"Rose," he said, suddenly serious. "You didn't have to do this."

Rose blushed and looked away. "Oh, it was nothing, really. I could get you a picture book and you'd still say that."

He clucked his tongue. "No, Rose, really. This is _great._" He wrapped an arm around her shoulder and pulled her closer. "Thank you."

She laid her head on his chest and closed her eyes. "And it comes with pencils too?" she heard Jack exclaim, causing her to smirk before falling asleep to the smooth rumbling sound of the lulling train.

…

_The field was lush and green and full of…memories?_

_Rose watched confusingly as two figures, who she soon noticed were her younger self and Jack, walked towards each other and started to talk. She tried to grab on to the drawings that flew past her, but they went right through her. Was she a ghost reliving her own life?_

_The scene shifted and there they were at the river, little Rose screaming as Jack jumped in to heroically save her ribbon, but in the end she threw her arms around him instead._

_Now she was in her old backyard, her eleven-year-old hand outstretched to a small rabbit. Jack laughed as it came closer, Rose's eyes going wide._

_Then there was Rose when she was twelve and her period started, and she felt like she had to relive the pain of Jack's dismissal all over again._

_When Rose was fourteen, she joined her parents on a trip to France. Bored out of her mind (and angry that they weren't going to seriously travel Paris), she received a note from someone who was no other than Jack. How he had the money, she had no clue._

_The landscape swirled and changed again, but this time the room was cold and gloomy. It was after her father's death, and younger Rose was staring depressingly at the wall curled up on her bed. There was a knock at the door, and Rose had to look away – she remembered how she felt at that exact moment as the sobbing continued and Jack's soothing voice interfered._

_Jack's birthday party. She remembered that. He turned eighteen, and it was one of the first times that she realized how protective he was of her. How he had started to fall in love with her, and she with him._

_When Rose turned sixteen, Jack had taken her to an art museum where they gazed up at Monet's masterpiece. She watched as her hand held firmly on to Jack's, their bond inseparable. Later that night, she had curled up on the beach with him, the strange feelings for him she had been combatting rising in her throat. But then she had been caught, and she never got to say what she wanted to._

_Finally, the acts ended, and Rose found herself in total darkness. She took a step forward and looked around, but nothing was there. "Hello?" she said, her voice echoing off of the nothingness. "Is anyone here?"_

_Slowly, she began to feel a tilt at her feet. Screams and creaks softly got louder. Her eyesight started to catch dark shadows until finally she could see what she was standing on._

_She was at the stern of a ship. And not just any ship, but the _Titanic. _Looking down, she saw she was wearing a flowing white dress. But worst of all, Jack wasn't there, and she had no idea what was going on._

_She put her hands on the cool railing and looked down at the rising propellers. People dotted the ocean that would soon take their life. Yet, she didn't feel scared or guilty or horrified. Instead, she felt calm. Like she was at peace with those who died._

_But she couldn't stop the scream that escaped her lips when Tommy appeared beside her, climbed over the rail, and jumped. She leaned far over to see where he fell, shrieking his name. Then Fabrizio appeared, and she tried to stop him by grabbing on to his arm and begging him not to, but he managed to pull away without a single glance and fall to his death._

_Rose flung her head around to see if anyone else she knew was going to do the same thing. However, what she noticed was that it looked as though Tommy and Fabrizio were running away from someone._

_When all she saw was the massive crowd of people trying to save themselves, she turned back around and worriedly looked down at where she thought she saw her friends hit the water._

_Of course it was when she looked away that someone else appeared. "Mr. Andrews!" Rose hissed sternly, taking ahold of his arm tightly. "Don't. Jump."_

_But he didn't listen, and she watched again as he plunged to his doom, his face holding a certain expression that was simply unreadable. _

_That's when she heard the gunshots. Her body cold, she turned around to face what had been causing her friends' deaths. What she saw made her mouth open wide and let out a silent scream._

_Jack was running in her direction, fear etched on his face. Behind him was a very bothered Cal, with the gun he used to pierce Jack's skin in his hand as he aimed for his head._

"_NO!" Rose cried, but it was too late. The bullet was shot, and Jack disappeared like nothing had happened, like she hadn't seen him get murdered._

_Now Cal was heading for her, cocking the gun with fresh bullets. But Rose knew she had to react. Climbing on the rail, she took one last look behind her before jumping off, her dress billowing in the breeze._

_When she hit the water, it was nothing like before. It was warm and inviting, almost like she was in a pool, not a vulnerable ocean. She didn't even attempt swimming back to the surface, for the waves pulled her down anyway._

_As she sank deeper and deeper, a flash of white light appeared before her eyes. This time she was on the ship again, but it was heading to its destination so far unharmed._

_She squinted in the bright, unnatural sunlight. There was absolutely no one on the decks, not even the sound of people chattering came from the Grand Staircase. She started to walk along the barren promenade, watching the ocean bob peacefully._

_Then she saw them. As she approached the stern, she smiled._

…

Rose opened her eyes later and found herself still trapped in Jack's embrace. The surreal dream still stuck with her, and she no longer felt haunted by what the sinking had done to her life. She yawned and tried to pull away, but Jack hissed at her to stay put. That's when she saw his hand grazing smoothly over the paper, drawing what looked to be a sleeping head of curls.

"Mr. Dawson, were you drawing me while I was sleeping?" she huffed jokingly as he added the finishing touches.

"Yeah, it took some work since you kept rolling around, but I managed to escape your wrath and move to the other seat. I guess I woke you up when I moved back here next to you."

Oh. So she _hadn't _been forever locked in Jack's arms. She was about to make another sly comeback when she realized that Maggie and her mother still weren't here. "Where are Maggie and Mother?"

Jack shrugged. "They came in earlier and said they were going to eat in the dining car. I guess they're getting caught up on life," he explained. "Oh, and by the way: We're arriving in half an hour."

Excitement boiled in Rose's stomach. She couldn't wait to go back home, curl up on her chair in her father's study, and read his books. She couldn't wait to go to the shed in the backyard and carve wooden objects, an eccentric passion of hers. And lastly, she couldn't wait to get this will matter aside and let her frantic mother rest in peace.

…

The train came to a tranquil halt, and Rose's eyes widened at the scenery. It was just like how she remembered Philadelphia: Beautiful architecture, large fields, and hilly backdrops.

"You look like a kid in a candy store," Jack joked as he got the luggage together. Maggie and Ruth were rapidly talking in the corner, but what they said came out in mumbles and Jack didn't bother trying to listen in on their conversation.

"I just haven't been here in so long!" Rose exclaimed enthusiastically, a glowing expression her face. "And now it's like Cal and the _Titanic _never happened…" She trailed off as thoughts of the sinking reiterated in her jumbled mind.

Jack only stared at her for a few seconds, blinking as her eager air withered. Sighing, he walked over to where she was sitting and sat next to her, putting his arms around her without saying a word. But it didn't matter; she already knew what he was trying to say. That he'd been through it, too. That he still had the scar to prove it. That he was there with her when she fell.

Rose wished for nothing but the sinking to just go away, but the nightmares were always there. And so were the memories. She couldn't just forget Thomas Andrews, Tommy Ryan, and Fabrizio de Rossi. If she did, it was like letting Satan sin her. Like the lives God gave them was for nothing.

As the group disembarked, there started a frustrated ruckus as Maggie suggested they call a cab while Ruth claimed that in the letter the lawyer said that he would send the butler to get them. But Maggie said that she read the message and he wrote no such thing, and when Ruth was about to snap back with a comment to protect her pride, Rose intervened.

"Why don't we just see if there's a cab waiting for us, and if there's not, _then_ we call one." As Ruth and Maggie grunted in agreement, Rose sighed through her nose and picked up her luggage. The sinking seemed to affect them too, even though they never touched the water. Their patience was wavering and irritability was on the rise. Yet, Rose was the one with the sore back, and after a few minutes of carrying her slightly heavy bag, it began to ache.

She groaned and put the valise down, rubbing her back as her face cringed in discomfort. She couldn't wait to go home now and take some painkillers. Jack came up behind her and took her bag under his arm, leaving his other hand free so he could put it on her waist.

Ruth's face inflamed when they reached the end of the station and their butler, Charles, wasn't there. _I guess Mr. Phillips never sent my telegram_, Rose scoffed internally. But then she immediately felt guilty, because she heard that both Marconi officers were rescued from collapsible B, but Jack Phillips had died from exposure in the boat. Some described that the other men didn't even notice, so he had passed on alone.

Rose shuddered whenever she thought of the _Titanic_. So many lives were lost, and all those reporters still flocked the dock like it was some cheery sports game. Entertainment for the Devil was more like it.

Maggie smiled triumphantly and called for a taxi, and Rose climbed in with the help of Jack. She just had to smile, even though her brain was pounding in her skull, when he gave her his hand and assisted her in. He was more of a gentleman than Cal was, and at least he knew how to have fun – unlike certain deceased fiancés.

The taxi rolled away and the excitement eased its way back in. She was home at last.


	26. Reminiscing

**Author's Note: Just four more chapters left! I would like to thank everyone's who's been reading this story! Also, I would like to mention that there's a poll on my profile, and if you're interested in knowing what stories I'll be posting next, just scroll down and you'll see a section of my profile that says "Coming Soon"! Anyway, here's the next chapter. Enjoy!**

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><p><strong>Fun Fact #26: Building the Ship<strong>

**James Cameron's rebuilt the **_**Titanic**_** 90% to scale. His version was shortened by removing certain sections, and was 775 feet long, though the real **_**Titanic**_** was a little over 882 feet long. It was built on an oceanfront in Baja, Mexico, and only the starboard side was built. Later on Cameron would "flip" it so it looked like it was docked on its port side. **

**Chapter 25**

**Reminiscing**

The drive to the DeWitt Bukater mansion was a silent one, except for when Rose made short comments about how the land had changed. "I don't remember that general store being there," she muttered when they passed by a freshly painted building. "Oh, look, there's that boutique we always went to!"

Ruth scoffed. It was almost like she was a child again. And she thought that Rose had matured after the ordeal they had all been through. The dark circles under her eyes from persistent fits of sleep were evident of what happened. Though she felt bad that her daughter had nightmares, she didn't want to hire a psychologist to make it seem like she'd lost her mind.

It was obvious that the house towering over them meant they were approaching the manor. Jack had a small smile on his face, and Rose's eyes were round as saucers. She made a show of exiting the cab and fidgeting with her suitcase, putting her weight on one foot and then the other, reiterating how excited she was to be home.

Maggie came up behind Rose with a jolly grin and the two of them, with Jack, chattered in a group as Ruth was greeted by the same balding man who had read the will two years ago.

"Mrs. DeWitt Bukater," he greeted with a polite smile. "It's a pleasure to see you again." Rose, Maggie, and Jack hushed behind Ruth. "Will you please follow me? Let Charles take your bags."

Rose felt a little angered that this man had to make a show of their own house. After all, it's not like they needed a tour: Jack had worked many years here, and Rose had grown up running down this very hallway. She knew every nook and cranny, every secret hiding place, and had counted every single tree in the lawn.

Eventually he led them into the office and explained the situation to Ruth, showing her the hidden words "time warp" on the back of the original will. "My daughter says she knows something," Ruth told the lawyer, Mr. Conley. "Apparently she thinks it's in one of these books." And she gestured towards the three large bookcases covered from head to toe in different bindings.

Mr. Conley shook his head. "Impossible. We've scoured the whole lot already."

Ruth turned around to call her daughter forward, but as perplexing and strange as the situation was, Rose wasn't available in the room to tell them what she knew, for her and Jack had slipped away.

"I can't believe we're back home!" Rose exclaimed, letting go of Jack's hand and running ahead, doing an elegant twirl. "It's so great to be here!"

Jack smiled at her joyous dance as she laughed and touched everything in their path. "This vase!" she said, her fingers grazing the delicate porcelain. "How could I forget it? My father got this from Paris!"

At the mention of Paris, something clicked in Jack's brain. "Uh, Rose—"

"And this painting!" she gasped. "It's always been so beautiful!"

"Rose-" Jack tried again, only to be interrupted by her excited chatter as she examined a chair. He walked faster to catch up with her and put his hand on her shoulder. "Rose."

She whipped around and put her arms around him into a hug, tears now streaming down her eyes. "I can't believe we're actually here!" She felt him pull her closer around her waist.

"I know," Jack whispered in her ear. "But Rose, I have to tell you something."

She pulled away but kept her arms around his neck. "What is it?" she asked, cocking her head in that curious way of hers.

Jack bit his lip and said his words carefully. "When I went to Paris with you," he started slowly, "you probably wonder how I got the money to travel."

Rose nodded her as her brow wrinkled in confusion. "Yes, I _was_ thinking that." She licked her lips. "But what does that have to do with anything?"

Jack couldn't look at her eyes as he told his secret. "Your father gave me the money," he said quickly.

It took a while for the shock to make its way on Rose's face. She pulled away, feeling hurt. This was something she wouldn't have expected in her whole seventeen years! "What do you mean, he gave you the money?" She tried to smile like it was no big deal, but it broke. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Jack felt guilty for keeping something like that – something he found insignificant, actually – from her if it meant more than he thought it did. "I'm sorry, Rose," he sighed. "He saw me when I was drawing and gave me the money, saying to take the next ship to Paris. He said it was a surprise." He traced his finger on the elegant pattern engraved in a picture frame. "I was only seventeen back then, and I was stupid. I should've told you when I got the chance, but you were just so happy. I didn't want to break the moment."

Rose sighed deeply and looked down at the table holding a vase of flowers, a thought creeping into her mind. "I'm seventeen now," she said softly. She looked up in his eyes. "Am I stupid?"

Jack stared back into her eyes, not knowing what to say. "Stupid?" he said with a scoff. "No. You're much better than me."

Rose looked away and rubbed her hand on the smooth wood surface. She smiled slightly, but it only lasted a couple seconds. "I forgive you," she said. "But I won't deny the fact that it hurts me when I learn things like that where my father never told me. It then feels like I never knew him at all."

"What are you saying, Rose?" He didn't like it when Rose felt so vulnerable and sad. "You were everything to him." Her sullen blue eyes met his. "You were his rose petal."

She laughed, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "I was, wasn't I?" He nodded his head and gave her a kiss on the forehead. She squeezed her eyes like she was disgusted and batted him away. "Stop that!" she complained, taking his hand. "Come on, I have to show you something."

They went outside to the backyard where the shed still stood. "It's still in good condition," Rose said, mostly to herself. She opened the door and was greeted by a thick layer of dust that made her sneeze. "The outside, that is."

Wooden figurines were displayed all over the little shop, a series of tools lined up neatly on the table. Rose's hand perfectly fit into a dusty carving knife, and she could no longer resist the urge. She picked up a chunk of wood and started to work.

Jack watched curiously behind her as her soft hands worked over the freshly carved grooves that she embedded as the form took shape. It was like seeing him draw, the same inspiration now lit up on Rose's face.

When she was done, a cute little animal fit into the palm of her hand. Jack let her fingers brush his as she put gave it to him. "It's cute, isn't it?" she laughed.

He nodded and looked closer at its large, beady eyes. "Why a rabbit?" he asked kindly.

Rose smiled, a distant memory igniting in her eyes. "I don't know," she decided to say. "It just came to me."

…

The couple now roamed the premises, Rose's hand delicately sweeping the rows of roses and tulips. "My father loved his garden," Rose commented, stopping to study a budding flower. "That's where I got my name."

Jack shoved his hands in his pockets and grinned at the lovely blooms. "I used to come out here and draw these all the time," he said.

Rose held her head up high as she teased, "Thinking of me, I presume?"

His face turned a bright red as he laughed nervously. "Whatever you say, Rose."

The conversation took a silent turn, and they continued their walk down the gardens. "So you know my story," she started as a thought came up in her mind. "It was, after all, in the paper quite a bit. But what did you do, Jack?"

He shrugged. "Talked to Fabrizio, drew some pictures. Talked more to Fabrizio, and then drawing some more pictures." He remembered the days when he stayed up all night just thinking of Rose, and whenever he fell asleep, he was only woken up again mumbling her name. It was pathetic in a way, but it was the truth. She couldn't get out of his mind. "What else was I supposed to do? I wrote you a letter, but you never replied."

Rose's eyes widened. "That's right, our letters." Then, something dawned on her. "I have an assumption, but I'm not sure." She took Jack's hand. "I think we should head back."

…

"But I don't understand," Ruth wailed, frustrated, as she looked over the documents again. "These little riddles make no sense. This husband of mine obviously had a wrong sense of clarity." She flipped through the papers, each containing silly poems about, as her husband called it, the "real" meaning of things. A rose wasn't just a flower; it was a symbol of love. A dove wasn't just a bird; it was a symbol of peace. And it wasn't just those simple, well-known symbolisms.

She started to have a hunch that Rose may be right. But if the lawyers did as they said they did, then how come they did not find it? Right now she was reading through another of these blasted riddles that talked about something being a "portal through time."

Mr. Conley was about to back up her answer when Rose and Jack entered the room. Ruth turned around, surprised. "There you are," she snapped furiously. "Where have you been? We needed you here!"

Rose sighed and crossed her arms over her chest. "I'm here now," she said. "What do you need?"

Ruth was about to go on about how Rose claimed that knew something, when she was interrupted by her daughter. "Wait," she said a little loudly. "I need you to answer something for me first."

Ruth kept her head up. "I'm listening."

Rose took a deep breath and swallowed the lump in her throat. Behind her back, she entwined her fingers together, but Jack started to, unknowingly to the others, play around comfortingly with her hands. She let his fingers lace through hers, loving the sense of confidence she got whenever he did something so selfless.

"A few months ago, when I stopped talking to Jack. I sent him letters," Rose blurted out anxiously.

Ruth sneered at Rose's words, but she felt the sweat prickling at her skin. "What does this have to do with anything?"

"You took them, didn't you?" Her eyes bore into her mother's combating ones. "You saw what I was doing and you didn't like it. So you took the letters when I put them in the mailbox. I don't know if you knew at the time, but it stripped me of a lot of my life, too."

Ruth's nose twitched, and her expression plummeted to the ground. She couldn't believe her daughter was confronting her in such a heartless way – and in front of their lawyer, too. "I don't know what to say to that assumption," she said, waving it off.

"After we're done with this, I'm running away with Jack."

Ruth's eyes widened in complete and utter shock. "_What_?" she cried at her daughter.

"I said that once this is over, if there even is a second half at all, I'm going with Jack." She squeezed his hand comfortably behind her back.

"You're being silly," Ruth stammered uncomfortably. "You're only seventeen, you're not eloping with anyone."

"Oh, Mother, we're not getting married." Rose's eyes went cold. "And even if we did, why would it matter? You wanted me married off to Cal, and look at where that got us."

Ruth DeWitt Bukater couldn't take it anymore. She could no longer stand her daughter being a daddy's girl, never thanking her for the life she gave her. "_Stop_!" she screamed. "Just _stop_!"

She turned on her daughter and shook her finger in her face. "If you did not know, Mr. Hockley is dead." Her voice began to crack. "And he's gone. Your father is gone. And I don't understand how _he_ got out of this alive—" She pointed to Jack, which made Rose's eyes flame up "—but they're _dead. _Do you even know what that means?"

Rose's hands were clenched into fists at her side. "My whole life I just wanted peace with you, Mother," she said, summoning up her best interpretation of a calm – not tear-jerking – expression. "And I thought you letting Jack come with us would help me forgive you. Now, we might never get along—" Rose gulped away the tears in her eyes "—but I just want you to know that I'll forgive you for what you did. Even if you will never understand what it was like to be on that ship as it went down, I know that you will always be there for me." She sniffled.

Ruth's eyes watered away her cold expression. She bit her lip and pulled her daughter into a well-needed hug, and Rose cried softly into her shoulder. And for the first time, Ruth understood. She smiled thankfully at Jack as she pulled Rose away and said that she was sorry.

"I hate to break up the fun, but shouldn't we continue with what we came here for?" Maggie interrupted the emotional ordeal.

"Oh, of course," Rose said, wiping her eyes with her sleeve. "Let's figure out this mystery."

She walked up to the bookshelf in the middle and opened the glass door. Two years ago, she had placed this book on its lingering shelf. Pulling it out, the golden sphinx stared back at her.

The party waited in anticipation. As Rose pulled open the cover, she gasped when a folded piece of paper slipped out and fell onto the floor.


	27. Uncovering the Will

**Author's Note: I have just two more chapters planned for this! Honestly, I'm getting kind of bored with it... But I'm pressing on! I'm anxious to get some feedback; is anyone reading this anymore? If there's any CC out there (or nice, honest reviewers!), then let me know!**

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><p><strong>Fun Fact #27: More Goofs<strong>

**When Jack and Rose are walking around the promenade deck, an unlikely object appears over the ocean. What other than a hill with a house on the top in the middle of the North Atlantic? Jack looks out of the porthole when he's chained to the pole. Problem with that? The master-at-arms was an interior room, and therefore would have no portholes. Rose looks up at the Statue of Liberty. Pretty dramatic, right? However, the statue is only visible on land, and it didn't become as green as it was in the movie until after World War II.**

**Chapter 26**

**Uncovering the Will**

Every pair of eyes in the room widened as the paper danced to the ground like it didn't have any secrets hidden in its pages at all. Rose bent down to pick it up, the heat leaving her face as she remembered what she told Jack – that times like these discouraged her about how well she actually knew her father – when Mr. Conley walked over and snatched for it right under her eyes. "Let me see that!" he said rather impatiently.

"You said you checked everything!" Ruth bellowed hysterically, but no one answered her desperate cry. Rose walked back over to the chair Jack left open for her, her knees suddenly turning into gelatin. What else could her father have left for them? He already gave the estate to Rose and her mother, but without any significant amount of cash. What was there to give? His blank sheets of paper on his desk?

Jack put a comforting hand on her shoulder as she plunked down in the soft chair. Mr. Conley cleared his throat and unfolded the documents. No one was breathing as they watched his eyes skim the papers, his eyebrows rising in the process.

"These are very interesting," he commented as he flipped the page and read through it. "It seems like we've had a misassumption."

Ruth's face paled. "What do you mean?" Her heart beat faster in her chest. "Please don't tell me that my husband's good heart led him to donating all we own to some charity?"

When Mr. Conley looked up, his eyes stared directly into Rose's ice blue ones, the green drained of their color. She was clearly impatient and nervous about what the rest of the will read, and Ruth's head snapped around to look at her daughter.

Everyone's eyes were on Rose now. "Do you know something?" Ruth frantically asked. "Is this all some silly prank you and your father put together?"

Rose licked her lips and shook her head slowly, her eyebrows furrowing in confusion. "No, I have nothing to do with this," she said.

Ruth turned back to Mr. Conley. "Can someone _please_ tell me what's going on?"

The room turned silent as he flipped back to the first page and cleared his throat. Rose shifted uneasily in her chair, squeezing Jack's hand tightly.

When he began to read, no one dared to blink. "'Though this is the second portion of my final statement and wish, it does not go back to what I first began with. I wrote the first half to this will many years ago, when my wife and my daughter meant everything to me. However, my life has been turned around by the least likely person I would have imagined.

"'Almost ten years ago I hired a boy to help him forget his grief after his parents' unexpected passing. In the time I have known him, he has become quite close to my darling Rose. If I had seen it before, I would have done more in my power to bring them closer together.

"'I write this in my final moments, tucking it in my copy of H.G. Well's _The Time Machine_. I pray Rose would have the sense to remember our conversations on my opinion of books, which I have no doubt she will.

"'Hereby with this notice I give my whole estate and a sum of two million dollars to Miss Rose Elizabeth DeWitt Bukater and Mr. Jack Dawson. They have my consent.'"

Rose's mouth fell open. Ruth let out a shocked, "_What_?" Maggie blinked uncomprehendingly as the realization gradually dawned on her. Jack's face blanched a whole three shades, and his eyes stared, unmoving, at Mr. Conley.

The whole room was in an uproar. Rose started to cry and Jack tried to comfort her through his speechlessness, and Ruth was yelling gibberish as Molly attempted to sit her back down. "Listen here now!" Mr. Conley cried to silence the room.

Rose sniffled. "H-he knew all along?" she said, mostly to herself. "How did he even know? I had no clue myself!" She rubbed a tissue across her wet cheeks.

Ruth started to go one again, but Mr. Conley silenced her. "The will states that it's Rose's decision."

"Well?" Ruth said more calmly, turning to her daughter.

Rose swallowed hard, though her mouth was quite dry. She still didn't fully comprehend the situation. Did her father really just give the estate and all that money to her and…Jack? It seemed like a dream. How well was he watching them?

"I-I…," Rose began. All the things she was feeling drained out of her, and she looked at the lawyer with a sad expression on her face. "I don't want it."

…

Rose watched as the bubbles consumed her body into a peaceful bliss. She sighed contently as the warm water lapped away her stress and evident tears. Strangely, she couldn't stop crying. Just the thought of her father writing his last words about how his daughter and their ex-servant had the right to his home and money made her feel like it was all in vain.

She didn't want any of it. Wasn't one of the many reasons she loved Jack was because he wasn't rich? And this whole time he was a secret millionaire – and he was unaware of it, too.

The room started to flood with the calming smell of lavender. She tried to push aside her rambling thoughts, but they just kept bouncing around. Eventually she closed her eyes and let them swallow her up.

_She was on the _Titanic_ again, but this time it wasn't sinking. She found herself at the stern of the ship, smiling warmly at the group of people huddled around the deck. There was Tommy's familiar Irish accent, Mr. Andrews' gentle voice, and Fabrizio's Italian laugh. As silent as the sound was, she could even hear the light strokes of Jack's hand creating another masterpiece._

_She hurried down the steps and towards the happy group. "You're all here!" she exclaimed warmly. She was about to run over and pull them into a hug, but her feet wouldn't move forward. Taking a step, she was still in the same place. She looked up at them in confusion. "What's going on?"_

_All pairs of eyes were on her as the sky started to turn dark and their bodies began to disintegrate in the air. "No!" she cried, horrified. The deck began to tilt under her and she tried to run, but she still couldn't move. "I never said good-bye!"_

_It was like the last dream all over again, but with a blood-curdling twist: Cal appeared and was aiming his pistol directly at her. She couldn't scream; she couldn't run. As the bullet came whooshing in her direction, she felt the impact before everything went black._

"Rose?"

There came a concerned knock at the door as Rose's eyes fluttered open. Her body felt overly hydrated (though her throat was parched) and the water made her skin prickle. The only remnants of the soapy bubbles were small bunches of foam lining the rim of the tub.

"Rose?" There was Jack's voice again. Another knock. "Are you okay? You've been in there for an hour."

Suddenly the room felt like it was spinning, and her teeth began to chatter uncontrollably. She wanted to cry out to Jack that she didn't feel too well, but her vocal chords were shut down. She brought her knees up to her chest and stared straight ahead at her shivering reflection in the porcelain, even after the door swung open.

"Rose…" Jack took the towel off the closed toilet seat and placed it around Rose's shoulders, encouraging her to stand up. He then grabbed for another one that wasn't just freshly soaked in cold bathwater.

She was able to wrap the second one around her tremulous body and let the first one slip off her back. Jack put a hand on her back and led her into the bedroom, sitting her down on the bed and taking a seat next to her.

"What happened?" he asked while rubbing her back and shoulders soothingly. Her teeth slowly began to relax.

"I-I had another nightmare," she explained, silent tears slipping down her cheeks. "I guess I fell asleep. I was only going to close my eyes for a minute…"

Jack knew that she just needed to explain things and not be told what to do. He got off the bed and sifted through her suitcase, pulling out the seductive nightgown Rose insisted on buying that morning. That moment seemed so long ago now.

He placed it next to Rose and gave her a reassuring kiss on the forehead, saying that she should collect her thoughts and get ready for bed. She emotionlessly crawled into her nightclothes and pulled the covers back, yet she still didn't want to go to sleep. She had enough of these nightmares already.

The worst part was, Mother had placed her in her old bedroom and Jack in the guestroom all the way on the other side of the house. If she snuggled in with him in the middle of the night and the maid came to wake him in the morning, some questions would be raised.

Slipping under the covers, she rolled onto her side and let every single thought come freely into her mind. Jack had been so patient with her, something Cal never would have done; he would have told her to snap out of it and appreciate her life. All the excitement from the morning was forgotten.

Sighing, she turned onto her back, staring at the ceiling. She had taken three painkillers before slipping into the bath, reading the directions and wishing she could pop in a couple more; the ache in her back made it impossible to bend over. She hoped the pills would keep working throughout the night.

Jack seemed to be healing nicely. He obviously wasn't complaining about the bullet wound Cal had thoughtlessly given him. In fact, she hadn't asked Jack how he was doing at all. The guilt she had felt on the _Carpathia _swarmed her again.

Crawling out of bed, she gave up on trying to sleep. Instead, she quietly opened her bedroom door and slipped out into the hallway, holding in her breath as it closed with a small _click_.

Tiptoeing down the hallway in her bare feet and up a flight of stairs to Jack's room, she came upon the door and knocked quietly before she could hesitate. When he answered it, she had nothing to say except for the apologetic look on her face as she gestured in the room. "Can I come in?"

"Sure," he said, closing the door behind her.

She took a seat on the ruffled bed. Already there were more drawings than she could remember scattered on the comforter. She took one in her hands and looked at it fondly. It was a picture of the lake that was less than a mile away. However, it wasn't dated for today: It read June eighteenth of 1907. "Where'd you get this?" she asked, flipping through the others and seeing they were all dated before he was dismissed six years ago.

His foot lightly kicked the bottom of the nightstand, and a fake bottom fell down. "I forgot I hid some of my favorites in here."

She continued inspecting the drawings: Children, animals, and all different kinds of scenery. Then she came upon one of her younger self, and in the picture she sat down in the long grass of a very familiar field, her eyes looking up at the sun.

"Jack," she said, astounded. "This is amazing." Her finger outlined how her hair flowed down her back, and how the hills rolled so perfectly in the background.

Jack came up behind her and put his head over shoulder, taking her hand and letting it go over each stroke. She began to smile, which brought a grin to his face; he never liked to see her in such downhearted moods. She shone brightly whenever she was happy, and those moments are what made him remember their fond times together.

Rose eventually started to laugh, and she fell into his chest, tilting her head up so she looked into his eyes. Then she took her hands in his and laid them on her crossed knees. "How _are_ you?" she asked, drawing him closer.

"Do you really need to ask?" he remarked as he brushed aside a strand of hair on her forehead. "I've been so worried about you."

Her smile fell as she sighed audibly. "I don't think it will ever completely go away, but it will fade. And we'll just continue on with our lives as we always do." She nestled into his chest as he wrapped his arms around her shoulders. "But all you've been hearing is me complain and cry. Is that all you really think about is how I am all the time?"

Jack's expression demolished as he stroked her head. "I hate seeing you cry," he whispered, his fingers brushing across her neck, making her shiver. "All I want is for you to be happy. Because if you're happy, then I am too."

Rose didn't know how to answer Jack's response. It was times like these when she really knew what love was, through its emotional peaks, tacky lines, and unplanned lows. And it was also these moments when she realized how much she wanted to spend all of them with Jack.

"Jack, when we head out in the horizon together and travel the world," she started, "this isn't going to be easy." She looked up into his piercing blue eyes that could see her very soul before giving him a small, passionate peck on the lips. Her eyelashes brushed against his cheek as she shut her eyes, embracing the moment. "But I trust that we'll find a way through it."

The attraction couldn't be broken no matter how much Rose planned to pull away after her adoring statement, and she went in for another kiss that lasted much longer than the next one.

With each kiss her woes were forgotten, and her future with Jack became more palpable in her mind. So maybe it wouldn't be easy…but who was to say it couldn't be perfect?


	28. The Ending Is Just the Beginning

**Fun Fact #28: Filming the Water Scenes**

**In actuality, Jack didn't sink to the bottom of the ocean when he died. Tank 4, the smallest pool used with 350,000 gallons of water, and where they shot the scenes where Jack and Rose are in the water, was only three to four feet deep, and it stayed at over 80 degrees Fahrenheit. (Their frigid breaths were later added on digitally.) There was even a tank used to sink the replicated ship, which consisted of 17 million gallons of seawater from the Pacific. When Kate Winslet's character steps into the flooded hallway with the axe, her gasp was her real reaction. Because she refused to wear a wetsuit, the times she spent in the colder water caught up to her, and she got pneumonia and almost cancelled. **

**Chapter 27**

**The Ending Is Just the Beginning**

The next morning, Jack and Rose were found peacefully sleeping, huddled on Jack's drawings. They had fallen asleep discussing everything, from the will, to their plans, and to their future. Rose didn't even shiver from the fact that the covers were never wrapped around her; Jack instinctually moved his arm around her waist during the night, his head in her red hair, his hand in hers.

…

_One month later…_

Nearly a month after the _Titanic _sank, and it was still making headlines. J. Bruce Ismay had been testified at the American Inquiry into the sinking that started on April nineteenth, and in his hesitance and unclear gestures, he refused that the _Titanic _had been trying to win the Blue Riband. He claimed that the White Star Line was for luxury, not speed, which was for the Cunard Line. He was questioned by Senator William Smith if he had convinced Captain E.J. Smith into speeding up, and though he could have refused, the evidence against him was overwhelming.

Rose had read the newspaper carefully over the inquiry, which ended on May twenty-fifth. It said that Ismay had indeed talked to the captain about lighting up the all the boilers and driving at full speed for Monday, April fifteenth. He even boasted to the passengers about it like it was going to be some huge show. In fact, it was even proven that he had been shown an ice warning on the day of the collision.

Many other testimonies from surviving crew members and passengers were made. There was Charles Lightoller, and Archibald Gracie. Even Harold Bride, who worked with the fervent Jack Phillips the night of the sinking, made his story and told his facts. And in the end, Rose was sickened at J. Bruce Ismay for trying to deny the fact that he had slipped in collapsible C last minute, and left his passengers to drown in the freezing sea.

But for the whole family, they were shocked to learn of a "mystery ship" which had been close by when the _Titanic _was sinking. They traced it back to a Captain Lord by a crew member of the _Californian, _who said he saw the _Titanic_ sinking but the captain did nothing. In the end, it was discovered that Ernest Gill's story about Lord' refusal could have been faked, for someone had paid him five hundred dollars for his tale – and he disappeared from the scene without a trace after getting his cash.

Rose carefully read with wide eyes Captain Lord's account by Senator Smith, noting how he claimed that he saw a small freighter, not a huge passenger liner. He clearly pointed out dates and times, but left no information on his motives. Finally, Rose gave up on reading the newspaper.

Now the British Enquiry was taking place, but Rose ignored that, too. She had already had all the information she needed from the senator. Ismay was a coward and Captain Lord had witnessed the deaths of fifteen hundred people. For her, it was as simple as that.

May turned into June, and the cool spring days she had felt on the deck of the _Titanic _were replaced by the hot and humid summer air. As she packed her clothes into her suitcase, she couldn't help but squeeze in _The Time Machine _and a picture frame of her father in between the fabrics. She knew she couldn't leave without them, now that she was old enough and had the time to read H.G. Wells.

Her and Jack were planning on taking the next train to anywhere tomorrow night. They had talked the plans over and knew that eventually their destinations would take them to Santa Monica. But first, Rose wished to go somewhere else for the occasion.

"Jack, let's go where you grew up," Rose said at the breakfast table, taking his hand with an excited glint in her eyes. "Before you moved here. Let's go to Chippewa Falls." That had earned her a very grateful kiss in the hallway later on.

More than a month into the sinking, and everything had gone back to normal.

This certain morning Rose's packing was interrupted by a knock at the door. "Rose?" came Ruth's muffled voice through the wood.

"It's unlocked," Rose called out as she folded her favorite dress, a nice green color with white trim.

Ruth didn't make a statement until she entered the room and was by Rose's side, helping her gather her belongings. "Rose, are you sure about this?" she asked uncertainly. "I mean, you've never been on your own before…"

"Oh, Mother, I'm not alone." Rose smiled sympathetically at her mother. "Jack's with me, remember?"

Ruth's face still held unreliable glimpses. Rose put her hand on her arm. "Look, you _know _Jack. And Father trusted him, too."

"Why does it matter what your father thought?" Rose glanced up at her mother, a neutral look on her face. There was a tearful grin on her face. "I was all you had. The least I can do is let you go. Um…" She sniffed and blinked her wet eyes, putting her hand in her pocket. "I, uh, have something to give you. Think of it as a welcome gift to whatever home you decide to settle at."

Rose stared down at the pack of bills. After she had refused the offer her father's will gave, she signed the contract that would donate it all to Ruth. Now she no longer had to worry about any other unwanted courtships or arranged marriages. "Oh, you don't have to…," she began, but was immediately silenced by Ruth's raised hand.

"Trust me on this, Rose. You need to start somewhere. I'm not letting you go do whatever you want without a cent to your name. You'll thank me later." She then stuffed the bills in Rose's hand and patted it before continuing folding the clothes.

Rose didn't know what to say. She didn't want to start off with Jack making a stupid decision, and she knew that her mother was right: She _couldn't _leave without at least some money. How would they pay for a train ticket? Were they planning on sleeping under a bridge?

"I'd better get some rest," Rose decided to say, ending the moment with her mother. Yesterday she and Jack had stayed up all day and night, and though a couple of wine bottles had disappeared, her mother hadn't noticed yet. The headache still ached dully in her skull, reminding her of their drunken state in the early morning. She hoped they wouldn't be intoxicated messes all the time and burn their money away – though one of the fun things about the pier was the cheap beer.

"What time are you leaving?" Ruth inquired as Rose snapped the suitcase shut.

"The train leaves at four." She moved the bag near the doorway. "We want to get there early so we can spend our whole first day in the town before heading off into the country."

"And where are you going again?" Ruth tried to remember the name Rose told her, but it was foreign on her tongue.

"Chippewa Falls."

"Oh yes, of course."

Ruth wished her daughter a good morning's rest and exited the room. When she knew she was gone, Rose snuck out of her room and evasively climbed the steps and to the guestroom. "We're leaving tomorrow!" she squealed with a laugh as she ran into Jack and jumped on to the bed, falling into his arms.

…

That evening, Rose wanted to spend her last time in the house in her father's study. Before she would make herself comfortable on her chair and read a book, she scanned the room thoroughly, remembering how she felt whenever she was in here.

She started at her father's desks, his papers still stacked how they were two years ago. Her hands grazed the soft wood of a carved rabbit, its ears getting dusty. "You poor thing," she said as she held it in her palm and cleaned it with her skirt. "You've been working too hard keeping these papers down." And with that comment she gestured to the stack that the little bunny sat on to prevent them from flying away in a sudden burst of wind.

She placed it back down, and her fingers traveled the edge of the desk, touching the papers, the picture frames, and the box of cigars. Sadly, the pads of her fingers always came up with dust. No one had touched this place in what seemed like a decade.

Acknowledging the book cases, she opened each one and scanned the bindings, enjoying the familiar names of Voltaire, Montesquieu, and Locke. Her father was quite the philosopher and politician. But then she came upon the adventure books, _Moby Dick _and _Tom Sawyer_; there were the mystery books with the whole collection of _Sherlock Holmes_; the romance collection with authors such as Jane Austen and Charlotte Bronte; and it looked as though someone still kept the shelf meant for new editions fresh with authors by Gaston Leroux and Victor Appleton.

After the bookshelves came the plush couch in front of the elaborate window. It was an ideal place to take naps and wake up to the sunlight; Rose was always found doing her homework on this sofa, her small body falling into the soft seating.

She sat upon that couch now, soaking in the sunny weather outside with a deep sigh. Yet, even with the impeccable way her life was going at the moment, something still felt terribly wrong.

"I knew you'd be in here."

Rose looked up to see Jack smiling at her, and when she moved her gaze back out the window, he began to inspect the study like she had before. "I remember this room pretty well," he said, coming to sit next to her.

She kept her scrutiny on the grass dancing in the breeze as a car passed by, its black color matching Rose's sorrow. It had been a month and she still had the dreams repeatedly; the ones of her dead friends, and the one of Jack freezing in her arms. "I still have them," she said vaguely, her expression troubled.

Jack put his hand over hers, his thumb rubbing her palm tenderly. "By tomorrow we'll escape all this," he whispered. "I promise."

Rose shook her head, her sad eyes looking into Jack's piercing gaze. "I can never forget what happened," she responded as her mind became full of the screams. "All I can do is move on."

"Rose, it's _over _now. It has been for a while. The ship is gone; Cal will no longer hurt you." He wiped away a tear that dropped down her cheek, his hand lingering there. "Why do you let yourself be like this?"

"Because it haunts me," she snapped. Feeling bad for her quick remark, she looked down at her lap and lowered her voice. "I assume it will for my whole life."

There was a teasing edge to Jack's tone when he said, "Excuse me, miss, but are you _assuming_?" Rose blinked at him innocently with a crinkled brow. "What did I tell you about assuming?"

Her eyes lit up when she remembered their conversation more than ten years ago. A broad smile took hostage on her lips, the corners turning up with laughter. The gloom in her eyes was replaced by a familiar, fiery glow. "And what was that?" Their laughter rung out in the small study, and the photograph of the deceased lord in the frame on the desk watched them as they tease each other.

As their moment of happiness subsided, Rose leaned her head against the wall and watched the flowers dance around outside. "I just wish there was someone to get my mind off of it."

Jack shrugged his shoulders. "Write a book."

One perfectly plucked eyebrow rose in return.

"You've always wanted to be an artist," he pointed out. She nodded thoughtfully. _A book…_

"I have to go finish packing. You know, for the big trip tomorrow. Bright and early in the morning," he said while getting up. He gave her his hand. "You coming?"

Rose shook her idea-filled head and waved him off. "No, I'll just stay here."

When he closed the door behind him, she turned back to the window. "A book…," she repeated, liking the sound of it. She could write a lot, turn it into a story, and make the plot into a novel.

She walked over to her father's desk and brushed away the dust, sitting down in the comfy seat. Her eyes gazed at the picture of her and her father when she was little in Egypt. She then focused her attention on pulling out a blank sheet of paper and picking up a pen from the cup full of writing utensils.

Clearing her throat, she stared at the intimidating blank page. But then, everything started to come back from the last few months, and she put her anticipating pen on the paper and started to write.

…

The four o'clock in the morning train to Wisconsin set off on its tracks with perfect timing. In car six, Rose was laying her head on Jack's shoulder to pass the time, wanting to sleep but her adrenaline keeping her wide awake.

Before their departure, Rose and Jack bid farewell to Maggie, who was also leaving the same day to visit her ill grandson in Denver. They would never forget when Maggie, a month after the tragedy, presented Captain Rostron of the _Carpathia_ and his crew a silver cup of gratitude from the _Titanic_ survivors. They were glad to have met her, and she gave them her address if they ever wanted to visit.

Then there was Ruth. Though Rose never felt close to her mother, the least she could do was give her a parting hug. Which was exactly what she did before climbing into the train with Jack, taking one last look at Philadelphia before it huffed away from the city she grew up in.

Rose had noticed many new things about her city, but the next thing she saw made her stand up in shock. "Jack, look!" she exclaimed, pointing to the passing landscape. "This is where we first met."

The field look liked it always had, and though the sky was dark, they could still make out the lush trees, the rolling hills, and tall grass. "Oh yeah," Jack mumbled as the scene went by, and for a second he could see two kids out in the fields.

Rose sat back down across from him, and at first all they did was stare at each other. She thought of how long they'd known each other; he contemplated of all the things they'd been through together. She reminisced her desolate times without him; he remembered the days when all he did was draw her face over and over again. Then both of them recollected their moments on the _Titanic_, and the long moment of silence dragged on to its limit – and so the couple burst out into giggles.

"Remember that party we went to in third class?" Rose recalled, taking Jack's hand in hers from across the space between them.

"How could I forget?" he gasped, trying to get some air in his empty lungs.

They kept laughing as Jack pulled out his sketchbook, raising his pencil as a sign of approval. Rose nodded happily, and tucked her feet underneath her, resting one hand on the seat and the other in her lap.

As she kept a smile for him, she couldn't help but break it. "Just you and me now? No one to get in our way?"

Jack glanced up from his work and smiled at her. "Just you and me, Rosie," he said, his hand sketching out the familiar details of her face. "Just you and me."


	29. Epilogue

**Fun Fact #29: The Global Impact**

**Overall, the sinking of the **_**Titanic **_**has become more than just a historical event. With the 3D re-release of James Cameron's film, it is also a cultural phenomenon. With musicals (**_**Titanic: The Musical; The Unsinkable Molly Brown**_**), films (**_**Titanic, 1997; Ghosts of the Abyss**_**), books (**_**A Night to Remember; Titanic: The Long Night**_**), and TV shows and documentaries (**_**Titanic, 2012 series; Titanic: Birth of a Legend**_**), its legacy and history is well known. The head of the British Enquiry into the sinking, Lord Mersey, recommended that there should be enough lifeboats for all passengers on an ocean liner; lifeboat drills should be carried out before and during a voyage; and all liners should have radio sets that ran twenty-four/seven. He even set out on describing how future ships should be constructed in watertight compartments and what types of insurance should be made. Two years later, the International Convention for the Safety of Life at Sea confirmed these new rules. But two years later, however, the world plunged into war, and the **_**Titanic **_**was forgotten – until Robert Ballard discovered its wreckage in 1985, and today the people still can't get enough of it.**

**Epilogue**

**A Deep and Timeless Sea**

_One Year Later…_

Santa Monica was exactly how they dreamed it would be: The sand was warm and soft between their toes, the water was cool and clear, and the pier was bustling with excitement. After riding the roller coaster four times, Rose still wanted to go back for more, but Jack gave up – and promptly threw up in the nearest trash can.

When they rented out two horses to ride on the beach, Rose was reminded of Jack's gift to her almost two years ago. She challenged him to a race, and was forced to lie down in the sand as Jack traced her figure with a stick after she won the bet again.

"Are you done?" she asked as it went past her head, and she spit out some sand that got in her mouth.

"Almost," Jack said, putting down the wood. "It just needs a little something."

Rose sputtered and gasped in surprise when his bare foot kicked up a mound of sand that sprinkled her all over her body, spilling into the folds of her dress and sticking to her red curls. He laughed so hard, his face turned red as her hair, and she swore revenge as he stumbled to the water, with her hot on his heels.

The next week, after a long day of working in a fishing boat and a long night of celebrating his first month's earnings with Rose at the pier, he woke up in a bed full of sand. Rose giggled in the doorway as he got up, confused by the rough grains that fell to the floor as he shook them out of his hair. "Okay, so you got me." She laughed harder. "But you're cleaning this up."

She skipped into the room with her arms crossed at her chest. "It's worth it," she replied crisply, taking out a broom from under the bed, showing that she was prepared. As she swept it away and Jack got ready for work, she remembered what their life had been like the past year.

In Chippewa Falls, he had shown her around town, presenting to her where he lived and the lake that was there. They spent a lot of time near the edge of the water, talking in the soft grass. They only remained a week before they had to move on; Jack didn't want to stay because that would mean getting a job he wouldn't work for too long.

They decided that they would rather settle down first before traveling around the country. So after Chippewa Falls, they headed straight to Santa Monica, where they stayed in a bed and breakfast for a few weeks before finding their own residence. It was in their new home that Rose spent her eighteenth birthday.

"What's the surprise?" Rose asked. Outside she was having fun, but inside she was burning with curiosity. Just a few minutes ago she was sitting outside the bed and breakfast reading a book when someone – Jack – came up behind her and covered her eyes with a blindfold. She'd tried to pull it away, but he said to give it up – just like her birthday last year.

"Can I look _now_?" she whined, tapping her fingers nails on the hands that bound the fabric together.

"All right," he said, stepping away from her. "Open your eyes."

She pulled the blindfold off, first not comprehending what was happening. It was just a house with a sign in the front that said SOLD. Her eyes scanned the area: There was a decent garden, a small porch with a swing, and the light blue building was two stories high with white shutters. It instantly made a place in her heart.

"Ta da!" Jack exclaimed as a wide smile overtook Rose's face. "Welcome home!"

Rose gasped in utter surprise. "Jack, you didn't!" she cried. She squealed and jumped into his arms, and he spun her round and round. When he finally put her down, she puffed, breathless, "How did you—?"

"Now before you get mad," he started, caressing the back of her head. "I had to use a little bit more money than we hoped for."

Rose's smile fell. "But we planned out our earnings out so nicely," she said. She was even going to audition at the local theater that afternoon to keep up with her job at the general store.

Jack sighed. "I know, but I couldn't let this offer down. We'll plan out a new one, okay?" He brushed a lock of hair away from her face.

She couldn't help but grin slightly. "Okay, but you have to promise me this won't become an issue."

He kissed her on the cheek, and she smiled wider. "I promise."

A couple days later, they had their first fight. It was about the money, and Rose shut herself up in the bedroom, furiously writing the novel she started writing nearly three months ago. Later on, Jack came up to apologize, and he said he'd get another job if they had to. Rose couldn't help but forgive him, for she had overreacted.

Their life wasn't that perfect, though. Just a couple of weeks from today the bill came in, and Rose noticed that there was a whole chunk of cash missing after a purchase from some place that was printed as unknown. She confronted Jack about it later, and he refused with a broken spirit that he couldn't tell her; it was a surprise. However, Rose was in a rage after a hard day at work and rehearsals – for she had gotten a part in the play – and started yelling about how she couldn't stand their life together sometimes.

The result was a yelling match that ended in slammed door, and Jack was forced to sleep on the coach that night. It took Rose days to finally forgive him, but only if she knew when this surprise was going to take place.

Today was a special day, for it had been one year since the sinking. Jack and Rose were invited by Maggie to go to the ceremony, which took place where the _Carpathia_ docked those many months ago, but they refused. Instead, Rose decided to commemorate the day with a visit to her father's grave.

Since she started writing her story, the dreams had happened less and less. She wrote so profoundly and furiously on the long train ride to Philadelphia that Jack had enough time to capture her expression on paper. She scowled when she saw it, but she let him keep it; it was going to be his life's work, as she always told him, for one day he'll be a fine artist that everyone would know.

In fact, so many people in Santa Monica already knew of him. When Rose had to work late shifts, he would be found at the beach drawing the people and scenery around him. One time, a man even paid him for a drawing of his wife that Jack had unconsciously made. He came home with a whole dollar for something he'd only ever gotten paid ten cents for.

It wasn't the first time, either. There had been instances when he was paid a quarter or two, and one woman found his work so precise and detailed, she gave him a whole dollar and fifty cents. It was moments like these when Jack really began to think that someday he'll get somewhere with his artwork.

Now Rose stepped out of a taxi cab with the help of Jack, a wide-brimmed sunhat covering her mourning features as she took the bouquet of roses in one hand while pulling out an enveloped letter from her pea coat pocket with the other. "Will you take this to the DeWitt Bukater residence?" she asked politely of the driver, who answered with a curt nod.

She watched as the cab drove away. "You ready?" Jack asked comfortingly, understanding the dilemma she was going through. She had never visited her father's grave.

She turned around and smiled nervously, the roses clenched tightly in her gloved hands. "As ready as I'll ever be."

As Rose went ahead into the cemetery, Jack swallowed another anxious lump in his throat. His hand felt around for the velvet box in his pocket, the item inside memorized by the many times he would pull it out and think of what she would say: A silver band with a blue sapphire center surrounded by tiny diamonds. It took away months of pay, but it was worth it. Though Rose had already made it very clear on her views of marriage, he couldn't blame himself for bringing it up – the worst she would say is to wait a couple more years.

The air was chilly and the day overcast. Her father's grave was easy to spot: His gravestone was the largest one, something which cried to the other tombs that he was of a very prominent family. While Rose laid the flowers down on the well-kept grass, she thought of what she started to write in this very city what seemed like a century, when it had only been one year.

_Looking back on it now, I wish I had more time to say good-bye. I could still remember the frigid water consume our hope as we all tried to make it out alive. I wondered where my friends were, and I looked back on the last time I'd seen them: Fabrizio giving me a curt nod; Tommy yelling his thanks; Helga looking up at us as the lifeboat lowered; Mr. Andrews pained expression as I took him into a farewell embrace. There was a point in time when I thought I had passed on to the other world, but the blinding light had just been our rescue. We were saved._

_Jack and I have known each other for more than ten years. For ten years he's driven me crazy, for ten years our social differences have thorn us apart. We've had our share of memories and fights. But we're more than just beloved friends and lovers: We're survivors._

_Together we've combated many things. And so I have decided to write it all down like a personal journal, but maybe I will have this published one day to teach other girls of my mistakes, and to tell a story of tender love and friendship where things don't always turn out so well. Sometimes we don't always make the right choices. But that's when you go to the one person who's always been there for you and you cling on to whatever you have._

_Through writing this I not only will be documenting my life and my story, but I will also be saying good-bye. Maybe - just maybe - I will be able to put this all to rest._

_Yours truly,_

_Rose Dawson_

She had dedicated it to her father, in hopes that he would be reading it wherever he was. From somewhere he'll be watching her laugh and cry, from somewhere he'll be watching her children grow. After all, she was only eighteen – she still had a long time to live, and the _Titanic_ made her realize how precious life was. Unlike when she was Rose DeWitt Bukater, this time she was going to make it count with Jack.

The trauma from the tragedy was wearing off: Jack's wound was only a scar, Rose's back only acted up when she worked for too long, and their minds were slowly becoming accustomed to normal life again. They just had to live with the fact that out of the two thousand, two hundred people on board, they survived to live another day.

And with Rose's writing and Jack's drawings came the ability to heal. They were going to have to make things work out.

"Ready to go back home?" Jack asked softly, putting a hand on her shoulder.

Rose sniffled, not realizing that she had been silently crying. She nodded and said, "Let's go home." Jack wrapped an arm around her shoulder and led her away, Rose only looking back once to see the gate close and her father's grave peak out from behind the bars.

As the couple walked away from the cemetery, there was something else present in the air: A mind of relief. The guilt of surviving the sinking of the _Titanic _faded away and was replaced by plans for a bright future. Rose looked up at Jack and smiled through her tears, an expression that said she was thankful for him.

Regarding the sky, Rose watched with curiosity as the clouds slowly moved away. By the time they reached the manor, the sun was visible and sending rays of light to the gloomy city below.

Thus an old life was thrown away and a new one begun.

FINIS


	30. Sources and Acknowledgements

**Acknowledgements**

When I first started writing fan fiction over a year ago, this was one of my first stories. I still remember when I wrote the prologue, and I thought I would never do anything with it; it sat, abandoned, on my computer for months. Now here it is in its finished masterpiece, a story of love, friendship, hardship, and grievance.

From the beginning, I knew that Rose had to be the narrator of this story. It was written in her perspective up to part three, where I then switched it to third person. To get the overall sense of loss and recovery for the survivors, I knew that I had to not only delve into Rose's mind, but Jack and Ruth's as well. One year later, this story has come to a close.

In its time, _Falling Rose Petals _has reached a total of 12,734 views on July 31, 2012. It's the length of an average-sized novel for a beginning author.

For historical accuracy, I used many different sources so I could guiltlessly write Rose's time aboard the _Titanic _and get a sense of what life was like in 1912. However, this story is not clean: I will be going back and editing any historical inaccuracies using these sources as listed.

_Sources:_

_**Titanic: The Tragic Story of the Ill-Fated Ocean Liner**_** by Rupert Matthews**

_**Exploring the Titanic**_** by Robert D. Ballard**

_**A Night to Remember**_** by Walter Lord**

_**Titanic: An Illustrated History**_** by Don Lynch**

_**James Cameron's Titanic**_** by Ed W. Marsh**

_**Inside the Titanic**_** by Hugh Brewster, with images by Ken Marschall **

_**Dear America: Voyage on the Great Titanic**_** by Margaret Ann Brady**

_And I know I shouldn't be using Wikipedia, but I checked its sources with those from the books._

**Sinking of the RMS Titanic **

**RMS Titanic**

**Lifeboats of the RMS Titanic**

**Margaret Brown**

_Other Internet Sources:_

**The Washington Post**

**Titanic Movie vs. Titanic History (Chasing the Frog)**

**White Star – Marty Crisp: Run, Spot, Run!**

_DVD Sources:_

_**Titanic **_**(1997)**

_**Titanic at 100: Mystery Solved **_**(History Channel Documentary)**

Next, I would like to thank the following people for adding _Falling Rose Petals _to their favorite stories list:

Alois-kun

awesomebooks

bloomhorses100

briA135

Caeli Quaedem

Citrine Curls

debbiexmx

EditorFin

ej101

gingerandproud

JustinB2012

.LolzzxD

Lady Elena Bella Petrova

LaurenTiger

magykfan94

mitchierays

PreciiousPrincess

PrennCooder

PsYcHoGAMER164

Rockerangel742

rollergath

Showmance

The Bedroom Writer

thexlittlexlisa

ThomasAndrewsPrincess1912

Time Force Red

titaniclover91

twitanic

volleyballgirl122

Wonderland Beauty

ZOMGIT'SMAXIMUMRIDE

And thanks to anyone who put this on story alert.

Finally, I would like to thank my beta-reader for this story, Romione4Life, who always writes the best _Harry Potter _fan fiction!

Thank you for bearing with me as this new Jack and Rose story was brought to life. I might do more with this later on (probably chapters of little one-shots of their life afterwards), but for now I will be working on _Speakeasy Club _and _The Haunted Starlet._

Keep reading!

~Lady Elena Dawson


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